


Captured Dreams

by Serathurq



Series: The Dreams we Catch [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Master of Death, Powerful Harry, Sirius Plays A Bigger Role In Harry's Life, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Utter Nonsense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-18 07:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3561281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serathurq/pseuds/Serathurq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Harry Potter never became the Master of Death? What if Harry Potter was born as the Master of Death and Life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter rightfully belongs to the spectacular J.K. Rowling! May she be blessed forever for what she has created!
> 
> A/N: Right, first things first. I NEED A BETA! As I don't have one, all mistakes are my own and I beg that you can forgive little old me for the future mistakes I may make.
> 
> If you don't like where the story is going, please feel free to stop reading at any point! However, constructive criticism would be appreciated. I can't promise to get everything right (as I haven't read the books in a while), but I'll do my best! For the rest, this story will not be following the canon.

The trees danced exultantly as the morning dew began to lather them with frosted kisses. A small gust of wind flew lethargically through the sparkling green leaves that the trees had spent years nurturing and caring for. With uncontrollable laughter, the wind made its way through the canopy of leaves and leapt towards the heavens. Thin, wispy clouds, barely discernible in the diminishing darkness, watched as the wind tore through their icy layers and reached the sun. As if in response, the sun began to waken, its bright rays of light lavishing the land with the gift of life, lighting the azure sky with new breath. 

As the sun shone, the land that had spent hours sombre beneath it began to waken, somnolent limbs groaning as they began their daily regime. Birds chirped as the lights pierced the trees’ canopy and lavished them with love. Creatures, both magical and ordinary, rose from their slumber and continued to play Nature’s games. Shadows that rested in the night, weak and colourless, regained their shape and stepped forth in the land of the living. Evil, which could only live in the night, cried in anguish as the sun touched it, fleeing to the depths of Hell so as to await the night again.

Alone, standing on the far edge of the land of the living, stood a castle. Dust clung desperately to the fading bricks, giving the castle a worn and rugged look. As the sun laid its light on the castle, chips in the stonework could be seen at regular intervals. The castle stood morosely in the light of the dawn, unable to waken. Long had the castle stood without its true name, forgotten by all but the four that had created it- living now only as a mere legend. The castle had begun to fade as thousands of talented individuals roamed its walls and corridors. Magic that the castle yearned for, but had belonged to so many others, had eroded the castle, leaving it tarnished and broken. And so the castle waited now, without fear, for its end. For it would not take long.

**On the 31st of July, 1980, Hogwarts, as it had become known, woke up for the first time since the Founders created it**

It begun so softly that the castle did not give it any heed. The moon had been shining in the night sky for many hours, lavishing the castle and its surroundings with silvery light. It was quiet and the castle basked in the silence, its inhabitants having long gone to their slumber. As the birds of the night awakened, the castle felt the pull again. It was weak, but growing stronger, its call acting as a sirens cry. The castle suddenly and un-expectantly yearned for the source of the call. The call had magic in it, the purest magic the castle had ever heard sing. Melodious and rich in its tone, the castle could feel itself grow stronger as the call enveloped it with its pulsing beat. Authority rang heavy in the call, demanding all on earth to change to its demands. 

Dust, that had for so long clung to the castle walls, was wrenched from the stones as a bellowing wind tore at the wall. Wards, that had for years lain idle under the earth, screamed out as they were awakened and ordered to protect the castle. Magic, that had for so long evaded the castle, flowed through every crack and fissure of its great layout, bringing strength and youth to the castle. Rooms, that had for centuries lain buried under webs and enchantments, activated and prepared themselves for He that would come. 

As the castle awoke, the land around it began to echo the call. Lights flashed, half-blinding the creatures that cowered from the changing earth. The area around the castle began pulsing with strong, undulated magic; carrying with it a soft voice that the wind carried to all the corners of the world. Softly at first, but growing stronger, the words reverberated around the earth, giving warmth to all that could hear them, sending hope to the fighters and soldiers of the war. For the words heralded the birth of the Saviour. 

All around the world, through forests and deserts and mountains and terrains, the winds came barrelling, calling out the message that the magic was telling them too. Children that were sleeping in the beds, smiled as their dreams spoke to them of hope and love. Parents that had for so long grown weary of the war felt strength return to their frail limbs and new determinations arise in their hearts. They would continue to fight.

Not even the dead were excluded. Those that were chained to the earth felt their chains snap around them. The Ghosts gazed in wander as a beautiful light beckoned them, the calls of their loved ones pulling them in softly. No longer bounded by the world of the living, the transparent people smiled in giddiness and dissolved, silently thanking the Saviour that had heard their pleas. 

**On the 31st of July, 1980, Harry James Potter was born**

⃝ 


	2. The Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry is introduced. A filler of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so, if you have not yet realised, I tend to take my time in writing. So I'm just going to apologise now for the long waits between chapters :)
> 
> Oh, and this story will not really be chronological. There will be jumps in between scenes. Just a warning.

Darkness covered Privet Drive, enveloping the habitants of the identical houses with glee. Silver moonlight flittered through the dark shadows, searching for the little boy that had awoken their Mother. Fighting the dark that tried to conceal the boy, the moon above fought valiantly with the voracious evil that sought to keep the boy from her. Slowly but steadily, the silver light pushed the dark away.

_Please! Help me..._

A plea tore the silent night, entreating the light to fight. Following the call, and the pull of magic, the moon differentiated the boy’s house from the dozens of other houses and sent her children to it with haste. Almost effortlessly, the light breached the house’s wards and followed the pull to the cupboard under the stairs. Following the small cracks and holes in the door, the moon’s children wept when their eyes lay on the small boy- broken and bleeding. Beautiful black hair reached the boy’s waist, contrasting beautifully with emerald green eyes. A small frail body lay hidden beneath the hair, covered in dark and ugly colours that screamed of anguish and pain.

_Please…save me._

Hearing the boy’s internal thoughts, the light surrounded the boy in a loving embrace and began cooing gently into his ears. As if he heard their words, the boy turned his gaze towards the light, giggling softly as he found himself freed from the dark. Watching in awe, the boy lifted a frail hand and touched the light, smiling brightly as he felt warmth and love in it. The children laughed with him and continued to caress him.

They stayed like that for a long time, and it was only when the children heard their Mother’s voice did they stop. Understanding that the sun was beginning its ascent in the sky, the children turned sad eyes to the little boy that needed saving. As if understanding that he would be alone again, the boy smiled softly and waved, his eyes hiding his sorrow and fear. Not yet ready to leave, the angelic children pleaded with their Mother to allow them to stay with the boy. Comprehending what her children wanted, the moon smiled and shifted her power from holding off the dark to helping her children.

The boy gasped as the warmth suddenly left him to gather in the middle of his cupboard. With wide eyes he watched as the light accumulated together and began flashing, half-blinding him. The air was stirring, swirling around the boy, throbbing with the light, almost alive in its movements. The boy stirred as a voice came towards him through the light, a whisper at first but growing until the boy felt himself rocking to the tune of the words.

_My Child…My Child…MY CHILD_

With every pulse, the words grew stronger, reverberating through the small cupboard and echoing in the silent house. The air was vibrating as the light swirled into a whirlwind. It was a shimmering haze that throbbed with power- solid one second and transparent the next.

_My Child…take what is my own and use it….Take what is now rightfully yours… take my own and make it yours….Take it, Child….Now!_

The night had come to a standstill; the sun pausing in its ascent, waiting for the world to resume. The stars sat in silent awe; and as the moon watched, the boy smiled as the light twisted and turned in itself to form a shape. As the light began to dim, the boy looked in awe as gold eyes blinked open. A trill of beautiful music fell in the air, and tears fell from the green eyes of the boy as he was filled with sudden love.

_Her name is Hedwig…treat her well…for she is a part of you as much as you are a part of her…_

* * *

 

Harry Potter, of 4 Privet Drive, blearily opened his eyes to another day. Groggily getting up, the seven year old boy stretched as much as he could in the tiny cupboard that was his room. Gazing around his dusty abode, Harry smiled when he saw Hedwig nestled safely in the little bed he made for her in the corner of his cupboard. A little over two years ago Harry had pleaded to the stars, wishing for someone to come save him from the hate that surrounded him every day. Not expecting an answer, Harry was shocked when his wishes had come true and Hedwig appeared.

Feeling nostalgic, Harry leaned down to gently caress his friend’s silver brow, smiling when a beautiful melody burst from Hedwig’s beak. Feeling calm now, Harry turned to the rusty door that always trapped him in the nights and the days. Not dissuaded by the silent animosity that the door emitted, Harry waited for his family to come fetch him, silently pondering which one would come.

As if knowing that Harry had awoken, footsteps thundered down the stairs, shaking the small structure underneath them until dust and flakes of paint fluttered down in waves. Closing his eyes as he coughed what felt like bucket of grit, Harry was unprepared when the cupboard door was slammed open and a beefy arm crawled in. A huge mutinous face followed the arm until Harry was peering up into his uncle’s eyes. He stood, silent, as his uncle raked his eyes over the small cupboard, completely disregarding Hedwig’s presence (as he had since the first day) until they landed on Harry.

‘Stop lazing around, you ungrateful freak! After all we have done for you, this is how you repay us? MOVE, BOY!’ As spittle flew from his Vernon’s mouth, Harry stayed silent, hunching his shoulders and head in submission and waited for him to leave his room. When the overly large presence that was his uncle lumbered to the kitchen, Harry breathed furiously and straightened his back. Turning to Hedwig to press a small kiss to her silvery brow, he smiled and walked away from his cage to face a new day.

* * *

 

Two hours later and Harry was in the backyard, struggling to stay awake under the blistering sun as he mowed the lawn. Panting slightly, he grimaced in pain and stopped for a minute, allowing his head to rest on the metal handle of the mower. Breathing in deeply, Harry turned his head until he was staring at the vast, endless sky above him. Closing his eyes, he allowed the magic to enter his body and strengthen his muscles, bringing life to his near dead limbs. Giggling softly, Harry waved at the sun and, in a bout of nostalgia, remembered the first time he experienced magic.

Harry had always been able to feel magic. In the air, the ground, the trees, the animals, in everything. It had scared him at first, how he was able to feel the life in everything, to feel the beauty and richness of plants and people simply breathing. But it had terrified him when, just as quickly, he would feel life ebb away, leaving nothing but death and an empty shell behind. But Harry had only ever truly experienced magic when Hedwig came. Sweet, beautiful and clever Hedwig. Hedwig, his one true friend, the friend that no one could see but him. Hedwig- who taught him about life and death and the constant battle between the two. Who told him stories about magic, of beautiful castles and of her mother- the Queen of the sky. Who taught him how to open his heart to everything around him, until he could see and touch the magic that intertwined itself around Earth.

Smiling softly, Harry pushed himself up and with a final wave to the smouldering King of the sky, continued destroying the life of the small blades of grass underneath him. Trying to ignore the nauseous feeling in his stomach, Harry worked tiredly into the day. And waited.

For great change was coming. He could feel it in the whispers that the winds carried, in the stones that cried out constantly in pain, in the trees that shook in fear as the whispers tickled them and in the diligent watch of the Queen.


	3. The Rising Tide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right! Well, it looks like i'm back! The length of each chapter should increase steadily as I get more content to work with :)

Harry woke with a gasp, choking back tears as he fell back onto his thin mattress, limbs shivering uncontrollably. When the shivers turned into full body shakes, Harry locked his arms around his knees and pulled them to his chest, rocking slowly. Pressing his forehead to his knees, he clenched his eyes shut and tried to ignore the flashing images that reverberated in his head- vile images of death and a hate so deep it coiled around Harry, pressing him down into the floor until he was sure he was going to be buried in the concrete and the bones of the dead. He could almost hear the malevolent laughter coming from the snake-like mouth, could almost see those red eyes glaring down at him and feel the driving hunger behind them. The hunger for _him_. There was magic too- magic so foul and dark that it nearly drowned Harry in its sweet promises and commanding presence.

Lost in the abyss surrounding him, Harry jumped when he felt soft feathers caress him but relaxed instantly when a soft trill filled the air and banished the unwanted evil. Smiling in relief, Harry pulled Hedwig into his lap so that her head rested on his chest. The tension slowly left him, leaving him exhausted and boneless. Stroking Hedwig gently, Harry allowed himself two minutes to listen to her lullaby before he drew his courage and tried to recall his dream-his nightly terrors. ‘I keep seeing him, Hedwig’, he whispered. ‘The same man, every night. I can _feel_ him in me. He’s growing stronger and getting closer. And I’m scared, Hedwig...because my magic isn’t strong enough yet.’

Cooing softly, Hedwig nestled against Harry and offered him comfort in the best way she knew- with her voice. As if by magic, Harry’s breaths evened out and his body surrendered to the night. Choosing to stay awake, Hedwig spread her wings protectively around her charge and kept her eyes trained on the shadows that watched them constantly, daring them to hurt her fledgling. For she would protect him with her last breath- protect him against everyone and anything, including the evil that haunted Harry.

A tide of evil was coming, drenched in the blood of thousands and strong in its corruption. The tide was rising every day, but Hedwig would protect Harry. Always.

* * *

 

When Harry next opened his eyes, light was filtering through the cracks in the ancient door that barricaded him in his cell. Dust motes were dancing in the stale air, landing playfully on Harry, only to shy away when he moved. He moved to get up, but stopped when he felt something stop him. Peering down, Harry smiled lovingly as he saw Hedwig wrapped around him. Laughing softly, he gently pried her arms from him and lay her down on his beddings before he got up to await his day.

Harry followed his Aunt when she came to fetch him, trying his best to ignore the sneer that graced her face and the bruises that were surely forming on his wrist where her clawed hands were clutching him. He followed her into the kitchen and was instantly dropped unceremoniously on the tiled floor. Biting his lip to stifle his whimper, Harry gingerly stood up and began preparing breakfast, stomach growling in hunger and body still weak from the lack of sleep he was getting. As the smell of bacon wafted through the air, Harry could hear Vernon and Dudley wake up. Hard to miss, when each step they took had the potential to break the ceiling.

After placing his family’s breakfast in front of them and receiving their dismissal, Harry walked out of the spotless kitchen to fetch the post. Hands skidding over the beige walls of the hallway, Harry ignored the pain that always followed him when he saw the multiple family photos hung carefully on the wall- all of them excluding him. Pushing the front door open (absently noting that he would have to give it a new layer of pain soon), he breathed in the magic of the sun and slowly picked up the post. And paused.

There was magic there, in the letters in his hand. Frowning, Harry shuffled through the letters until he found one that sang of magic and life. Grinning uncontrollably and eyes gleaming in excitement, Harry laughed joyously as he suddenly envisioned his future and all the adventures he would surely have. Quickly stuffing the letter in the belts of his large, blue trousers, Harry ran back into the oppressive house that housed his relatives. Without giving his Uncle any time to talk to him, Harry pressed the other letters into his small, greedy hands and flew to the safety of his cupboard.

‘Hedwig! I made it!’ he exclaimed. ‘We’re going to Hogwarts!’ Grinning, Harry pounced on Hedwig’s unsuspecting form, giggling when she squawked in an unladylike form. Feeling the soft magic in the letter curl around him lovingly, he sprawled on his mattress and stared unseeingly at the grimy staircase above him, seeing instead the wide arches and glistening walls of a castle. Stretching up his arm until it touched the rough paint on the walls, Harry imagined rough stones instead and endless tunnels to fall in love with.

Opening eyes that glistened with unshed tears, Harry sat up and moved Hedwig so that her warm body curled around his neck. Staring at the letter before him, Harry’s arm trembled as shy fingers slowly opened the letter. As magic burst from the letter in waves, Harry finally allowed the tears to fall from his eyes and land haphazardly on the rich parchment. As he whispered the words of the letter to himself, Harry felt the world spinning around him, echoing his excitement in his ears and shaking with trepidation at what was to come.

Harry knew without a doubt that he would finally find his family in Hogwarts. Just as he knew that he would also find the evil that haunted his dreams.

* * *

 

Harry stood alone in the pub, breathing in the drifting aroma of sweating bodies and the overarching smell of greasy food. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Harry pushed his way into the Leaky Cauldron, twisting and turning his body around the intertwining limbs of intoxicated individuals. Trying not to be obliterated under the huge mass of bodies, he slowly made his way to the bar-tender that was chatting amiably with a huge man. Not wanting to interrupt their conversation, Harry waited anxiously at the corner of the room, subconsciously pressing his fringe down over his scar and twisting the strands of his long hair in his other hand. After he had received his letter, Hedwig had told him about his scar. She was currently curled around his neck, tucked away under his mane of hair. Knowing that no one could see her, Harry subtly scratched her neck, making it look he was adjusting the collar of his thin, ratty coat and not scratching air.

When the two men finally seemed to stop conversing, Harry made his way towards them. ‘Excuse me?’ he said to the bar-tender, ‘I was told that you could show me how to get into Diagon Alley?’ Looking questioningly at the man, Harry tried not to fidget as two pairs of inquisitive eyes landed on him. The moment they looked him in the eye, Harry felt their magic answer him. It curled around protectively, filling him with warmth and joy. Smiling, Harry immediately knew he was in the right hands and that these men would not harm him.

‘Well, well, young Sir. It is a pleasure to meet you,’ the bar-tender said while smiling at him kindly. Next to him, the small giant reflected the grin, and gave him a small wave. ‘It is, of course, no trouble at all to help you. In fact, my good friend here could give you a tour as he’s passing through the Alley.’ Here he looked at the giant, and upon receiving a nod and a smile in response, the bar-tender turned to Harry. ‘But how rude of me! I've forgotten my manners.! The name's Tom and my pal here is Rubeus.’

Nodding his head in understanding, Harry turned to face Rubeus…and immediately felt dwarfed. Nonetheless, Harry subtly allowed his own magic to go to the man, trying to send the vibe that he was happy and content with spending time with him. Harry knew, on a personal level, that being different from others would often lead to pain and isolation and he, upon letting his own magic look at Rubeus more in depth, found the same echo of pain in him. So he smiled at the man and transferred the same feeling of safety and warmth. He was rewarded when he saw Rubeus’s eyes crinkle in joy and a more relaxed smile being directed to him. And when Rubeus bent down so that he was looking Harry in his eyes and offered his arm to shake, without fear or trepidation, he knew that he had found a friend.

‘Hello, laddie’, Rubeus boomed in a pleased tone, ‘‘Tis a pleasure to meet yeh!’ Chuckling at Harry's startled expression, the gentle giant grasped Harry’s hand in his and led him to the back of the pub and out. Only to stop in front of a bare, bricked wall that looked tarnished and old in the soft light that played with it.

Harry looked questioningly at his new friend, watching him silently as he pulled out a pink umbrella that had seen better days. As Rubeus began tapping the bricks in front of them in a strangely hypnotic pattern, Harry began thinking that he might have picked a strange man to become his friend. He could only gasp though, when the bricks began to hum with magic and part to form an archway. Still holding the giant’s hand in his, Harry was pulled into sunlight that almost blinded him with its intensity. Scrunching his face, he shaded his eyes with his free hand, and mock scowled at the direction of his friend when he heard soft laughter directed at him. After a moment of dazed confusion, and of Rubeus’s soft tugs, Harry let his hand fall uselessly to his side and took a step into Diagon Alley. And nearly screamed.

Magic. It was everywhere. The alleyway was covered with magic, from the small cobbled pathway that shot straight through the mass of witches and wizards to the shops themselves. It was too much for Harry, who found himself suddenly leaning into Rubeus’s side, desperately trying to breathe through the surges of magic that were rocking through his body. He could feel the life in everything- could feel which witch was at the prime of her life and which wizard was nearing his end. It was too much. Blind to Rubeus’s hand wrapping around him in a hug and deaf to his concern, Harry could only whimper softly. Just as he was about to collapse and surrender to the pain, Harry felt Hedwig, who had been sleeping the whole time, press into him. Her rich music filled his head and battled the magic for him, pushing it down until it was only a distant echo in his mind. Shuddering in relief and mentally thanking Hedwig- who, after dealing with the situation decided to go back to her beauty sleep- Harry opened bleary eyes and gasped when he realised he was still hugging the giant man. Blushing, he looked up cautiously at Rubeus. When a concerned face was the only thing he saw, he breathed in relief and stepped out of the first embrace he could ever remember being given.

‘Come on, laddie’, Rubeus said, slowly standing from his kneeled position on the dirty floor. ‘Yeh’re ok. Nothing ter be afraid o' here.’

So it was that Harry and Rubeus made their way into Diagon Alley, unabashedly holding hands and with happy smiles on their faces. Harry’s from experiencing his first real hug and Rubeus’s from the warmth that shot through him when the boy next to him did not shy away from him like so many others. Two individuals who, without realising it, had just formed a connection that would, through hell and war, last a lifespan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up: Harry gets his wand and meets the goblins of Gringotts. And who will he meet next? Friend? Foe? 
> 
> Hello my little lovelies! I just have a few things I need to straighten out with you:
> 
> 1\. I've always thought that Hagrid and Harry share a beautiful relationship, and as such, I chose to reflect this by having Harry call him Rubeus.  
> 2\. Harry has been taught the basics of magic from Hedwig, and so he has a strong grasp of wandless magic. Why? Because I say so XD  
> 3\. I will be the first to say that my grammar is not the best and that I have no real experience in writing stories. Hence I have no confidence in the characters' speech patterns or the format of my chapters. I'll be attempting to fix this, but don't hold me on it. I am, after all, human. And humen are known to be imperfect.


	4. The Path Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another filler of sorts, but one that involves Harry's trip to Diagon Alley...where he meets someone special.

Harry laughed elatedly as he tried to keep up with Rubeus, his small legs valiantly struggling to keep pace with the other’s leaps. Still holding his friend’s hand, Harry nearly broke his neck trying to see everything around him. Not that he could help it. Even with Hedwig standing as a barrier, he could still feel everything. It was nauseating as it was exhilarating. There, in front of an ice-cream shop, was a jolly-looking man whose core was sizzling with life and thrumming with magic. Harry could tell that he still had a good 50 years on him. And there, behind him, was a sick looking boy whose magic was long dead and only pulsed dully. Alive but dead.  He had maybe one year.

Harry’s smile quickly turned to a frown as the long familiar sadness enveloped him at the prospect of another human disappearing.  But death was fair and offered peace, a lesson that Hedwig had painstakingly taught him. So Harry smiled again and focused on where Rubeus was taking him-Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

Unable to hide his excitement at the idea of meeting _real_ goblins, Harry peered through his long bangs at the snow-white building that towered over Diagon Alley. A masterpiece in architecture, the building pulsed with thousands of ancient, intertwining wards- wards that flew towards Harry upon his arrival and leisurely lavished him with their welcome. They spoke to him as an old-friend would-shooting out greetings of love and respect, of friendship and bonds. Harry’s heartbeat soon succumbed to the same beat of the wards and he opened his mind to them, allowing them full access to his soul. It was an addictive thrill that left Harry breathless and shaky.  
  
Rubeus, who had been for the most part busy with navigating their way through the clusters of wizards and witches, chuckled as he saw Harry’s awe-struck face and innocent pleasure at seeing the bank. 'Come on, laddie. Once yeh get some galleons, yeh’ll be fine in gettin’ everythin’ yeh need fer Hogwarts.'

Harry blinked out of his daze when he felt Rubeus’s hand lightly push him up some stairs. The giant took them three at a time, bustling Harry as he went, so that they reached a pair of bronze doors that glittered in the sunlight fairly quickly.  Shadowed by Rubeus’s huge bulk, Harry didn't see the small goblins until he was right in front of them. 

Dressed in scarlet and gold the goblins exuded power and confidence. Small beady eyes glistened under their wrinkled brows, pupils constantly shifting to gaze at their surroundings and its occupants.  Bowing their small heads when the giant and the boy passed them, the goblins peered up at Rubeus and Harry as they entered the marble hall. It was completely by chance that the goblin on Harry’s right looked at him directly in the eyes when he walked past him. It was only for a moment but when Harry found his gaze locked with the goblin, words swarmed into his mind- words from a language as old as magic.  For that small moment, Harry lost control of himself.  He bowed. And words poured out of his mouth in a language he had never heard before, but suddenly found himself knowing.

'Mighty warrior, I search for sanctuary in your golden halls and offer you my riches for this protection. May gold always flow in your halls and may your foes find themselves conquered by your hands.'

The goblins jumped, startled, and stared at Harry with wide eyes, unbelieving in the fact that such a young boy could speak their tongue. Respect filled their eyes and they bowed their heads to the boy before speaking to him in return. 'Enter, traveller. Our sanctuary is now yours as is our protection. May gold yield from your labour and may our foes perish and harm us no longer'.

Grinning at the goblins, Harry nodded his head and waved at them before rushing in the majestic halls to catch up with his friend, barely registering the warning for thieves.

* * *

 

Harry waved goodbye to Rubeus with a huge smile on his face. The other man had needed to return to his other duties and so had dropped Harry at Ollivanders. As the huge man lumbered off, Harry hefted the small leather pouch in his hand and remembered with awe the chamber of riches his parents had left him. The goblin that had escorted him had barely restrained himself from laughing at the boy’s enthusiasm.

The goblins had been suspicious at first. Rubeus, assuming that Harry already had his key, had walked off to complete his business at the bank, leaving Harry alone with a goblin. If not for Hedwig’s reassuring presence at his neck, and his sudden knowledge of their language, Harry was sure that the goblins would have sneered at him and refuse to give him a blood test to prove his identity.

Shaking his memories away, Harry turned to the dust-covered shop and walked lethargically towards the ancient door. Green eyes examined the precariously standing building, zoning in on the strong lines of magic that pulsed around the shop. It thrummed with power that was almost as powerful as Gringotts- but differed in that it was also vulnerable, made as it was by the magic of thousands of wands.  

Awed, Harry softly pushed the door forward and took a few hesitant steps forward, until he was standing in a vast room. Dust layered the shelves that contained thousands of narrow boxes, smothering the excited calls of the wands inside them. It floated in the air so that Harry was peering through a musky curtain of grey into the dark depths of the shop.

'Hello?' Harry queried, eyes narrowing as he saw something shift in the darkest corner of the shop. Just a small shift, but it sent a small trickle of fear down his spine.

'Mr. Potter, I thought I would be seeing you soon.'

Harry jumped as a soft voice echoed in the musty room. Surprised, Harry broke into a grin when he saw the dark shape turn into an old man with a mane of white, scraggly hair; feeling silly for his initial fear. Silver eyes stared unblinkingly at Harry, scrutinising him until Harry began to feel self-conscious.  But not afraid. No, he could never be afraid of the man whose body breathed and exhaled magic, whose very core reached out with thousands of hands to create _new_ magic and whose very age stretched infinitely into the ages.

'Yes, I thought you would come soon. But never did I expect you to come with a _companion_.'

More startled than before, Harry took a step backwards as his hand rose hesitantly to touch Hedwig’s soft crown, which was rested curled around his neck.  She sleepily cooed at him and nipped at his fingers before nestling closer to his heat.  Who was this man who could see Hedwig, Harry thought to himself. Who was he that he was able to see his friend when not even Rubeus and the other magic-users could?

As if sensing his trepidation, gnarled old hands shot out in surrender. Silver eyes flashed as Ollivander walked out from the shadows to stop in front in Harry. 'Fear not, my boy', his soft voice whispered. 'I wish no harm to you or your companion. My intention was only to state my surprise. For you carry a very powerful friend there, Mr. Potter.  No doubt we will see powerful things from you…'

'How can you see her?' Harry asked softly, unconsciously pressing himself to the door behind him. 'No one has ever been able to see her.'

'Mr. Potter, I am not like other wizards. I see and feel magic that no one else can hear or touch. I surround myself with all that is unreal.'

Smiling at the black haired boy, Ollivander slowly reached out one knotted finger to caress white feathers.  Closing his eyes, the old man allowed himself one moment to touch the purity that lay before him before standing back and snapping to attention.  'So, you’ll be wanting a wand no doubt, Mr. Potter', he exclaimed, 'please, raise your wand hand'.

Confused, but willing to give this little old man a chance, Harry raised his right hand and grinned when he saw webs of magic lift a measuring tape that zipped towards him. Giggling under his breath, Harry watched as the little tape began to dance around him, opening and shutting with little _clicks_. Not long after, the tape gave a final _click_ and fell lifeless to the floor. Ollivander took its place, his face stretched into a wide smile and his hands clutching a small box.

'If you would give this one a swish?'

Nodding his head, Harry stretched out his hand and grasped the small wand.  He hadn't even lifted it out of its box before he let it go with a gasp. Feeling nauseous, Harry shook his head and gasped out a ‘no’.

Ollivander only smiled wider and produced another box. And another. And another.

Each time, Harry felt ill and could not bring himself to attune with the rough magic of the wands. His hands began to shake, and it was only Hedwig’s melodious coos that prevented him from being sick right there.  When another wand was presented to him, Harry simply shook his head. 'Please, Mr. Ollivander, may I choose my own?'

Startled, the old man stopped in his tracks and examined Harry curiously. It was true that he was running out of wands for the boy…and if the boy was able to pick his own wand....Grinning, Ollivander simply bowed his head in agreement. Yes, he would enjoy watching this.

Feeling relieved, Harry stood straighter and closed his eyes, shutting out the sounds and smells from Diagon Alley that wafted under the door cracks. Exhaling softly, he instinctively raised his right hand and _searched._ Behind his eyelids, Harry saw thousands of strings of magic suddenly come alive, their heartbeats pulsing in sync with their unknown masters.

 _There!_ Cocking his head to the side, Harry began to hum softly, his fingers twitching as he searched for that one strand of magic. It was hiding behind the others, singing louder and more joyously than all the others, but still beyond his reach.

Crying out in fear, Harry stretched his hand blindly, desperately trying to find it. It eluded him at every turn and Harry’s heart began to break at the prospect of never finding it again.

It was at that moment that Hedwig sang. No longer resting, Hedwig jumped from her perch on Harry’s shoulder and flew circles around him, spreading her wings as far as they could. Singing in tandem with Harry’s cries, Hedwig’s notes reached a beautiful crescendo, shedding the darkness that blocked Harry and bringing light to his path.

Swaying in time to the tune that surrounded him, Harry raised his left hand, so that both hands were flung from his body and grasping at air, reaching for his wand.

No…not wand… _wands._

There, just behind the first string of magic, was another. It was so closely intertwined that Harry had mistakenly assumed it was one; both wands’ heartbeats in sync with each other…with _his_ own.  No longer able to control his glee, Harry called for them, his voice joined by Hedwig’s, drawing them closer and closer to him until he could _feel_ them in his hands.

Opening his eyes, Harry gasped at the sight before him. There, in his right hand, was a brown, 11 inch wand that was supple and full of childish joy and life. In his other, was a black, 10 inch wand- its figure twisted into a grotesque shape. Unlike the other, this wand sang of death and decay, of ancient wisdom that was fair to all and favoured none. They both wore his hands as if they always belonged there.

Blinking rapidly, Harry turned his attention to Hedwig. Rested on his shoulder once more, Hedwig nuzzled the side of his neck and gave a happy chirp before nodding her head. Taking that for acceptance, Harry smiled and pulled his wands to his chest, closing his eyes and listening to their heartbeats. They were beautiful. And they were his.

When he next opened his eyes, it was to see a shaken Ollivander, leaning on his small wooden counter. Worried, Harry walked towards him and placed his hands on surprisingly strong shoulders. 'Mr. Ollivander? Are you okay?'

Silver eyes looked up at green, and to Harry’s shock, Ollivander began to laugh.

'Mister?'

Still laughing, the old man stood up and faced Harry, his face still flushed. His hands crept to take Harry’s own, willowy fingers curling around the two wands.  When he spoke this time, his words were no longer soft, but echoed around his establishment. 'In your right hand, my boy, you carry a holly wand, made from the feather of a phoenix. In your other, you carry a cypress wand, made from the tail hair of thestral. These wands have been with me for many years…and for them to have chosen you…'

'Yes?'

'You are a powerful wizard, indeed, Mr. Potter.'

* * *

 

Harry walked out of the store with his new purchase clutched tightly around his neck. Burdened by all the things he had had to buy he had gotten an epiphany that saw him buy a feather-light undetectable, extendable trunk. It was charmed to look like a silver phoenix pendant and hence hung around Harry’s neck, glistening every now and then when the sun hit it. 

With one thing left on his list Harry navigated through the crowds of Diagon Alley, searching for the little robe shop he had overhead two girls talk about. Unable to see through the throng of busy parents and children, Harry pushed his way to the side of the crowds where it was quiet and still.

Relieved to be out of the crowd, Harry stood on his tiptoes and peered at the shop labels at the opposite side. There! Having spotted a little shop which read “Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions”, Harry smiled in grim determination and entered the crowd again. Trying to avoid the elbows and the long legs, he ducked and swerved until he stood, panting, in front of the glass door.

Turning the handle, Harry walked into the shop and found himself drowning in colours and fabric. Scissors and other utensils were flying around the shop in a hazardous order, with strips of fabric shooting after them so that the ceiling looked like whirlwind of colours.

'Hello?' he asked tentatively into the silence.

'Hogwarts student?' said a jolly voice, accurately fitting the rounded woman who appeared from behind a clothes rack.

She was dressed in mauve and looked, in Harry’s opinion, as a woman who needed to rest more often. When Harry nodded his head, the woman smiled and bustled forward.  With arms wide open, she grabbed Harry gently and steered him towards a stool that stood in the middle of the organised chaos of the shop.  With a click of her finger, tools sprang alive and measured Harry.

All too soon Harry became bored. He had had his measurements taken and was now waiting for his clothes. Sitting on the stool, Harry was swinging his legs back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm.  Minutes trickled by, and just as Harry’s eyelids began to slide shut, they snapped wide open… to stare right into a pair of green eyes.

The creature before him was short and hunched over. Covered in wrinkles, the creature had a large protruding nose that was thin and two flapping ears that were precariously balanced on a bold head.  Wearing only a grey, unappealing pillow case, the creature was one of the ugliest things that Harry had ever seen.

And yet…

And yet the creature was beautiful. Luminous green eyes sparkled with infinite power and wisdom, hunched shoulders bore the scars of endless turmoils and lean limbs rippled with constant movement. Harry found himself entranced with this little creature.  'Hello, can I help you?' he asked tentatively.

To say Harry was shocked at the reaction would be an understatement.

Large tears appeared in the creature’s eyes, which were comically wide now.  Scarred fingers were shaking, grasping and playing with the edge of the pillowcase until its edges began to tear.  As the little creature’s body began to rock backwards and forwards, Harry cautiously made his way towards it and pressed his hand to its shoulder. 'Are you ok, mister?' he asked, his voice much softer then it was before.

It wailed and began to speak- his voice, for it was clear by the scratchy voice that it was male, rose to a screeching crescendo. 'Dobby has never met a wizard who asked about Dobby before! Harry Potter is a great wizard to ask about Dobby! Dobby is honoured to meet you, Sir.'

Giving little notice to the fact that the creature ( _Dobby,_ his mind reminded him) had realised he was Harry Potter when no one else had (exempting Ollivander); Harry lowered himself down until he was precariously sitting on his knees. Refusing to think about the consequences of what could be a very stupid move; he pulled Dobby into his arms and hugged him fiercely. 'It’s an honour to meet you too, Mr. Dobby. Are you shopping too?'

'Harry Potter is most kind, sir!' Dobby wailed into Harry’s shirt, his tears wetting the shirt until it changed to a darker shade. 'Dobby has never been hugged before by a great wizard before, Dobby is honoured! But Dobby is not shopping for Dobby, Sir. Dobby is shopping for Master Draco. Dobby is here to pick up the clothes that Master Draco will be needing for his school.'

Grinning at the utter innocence of this creature, Harry continued to hug Dobby, unaware that he was being watched by a smiling Madam Malkin. 'Well then, Mr. Dobby, I shan’t keep you from your work any longer. But before you leave, I would like to ask you something. I may have only just met you, Mister, but it would please me incredibly if we can be friends?'

After ten minutes of more garbled tears and wails, Dobby peered up at Harry with such adoration that Harry couldn’t stop himself from smiling lovingly at him.  The little creature nodded his head so frantically that Harry almost feared it would snap off. 

'Dobby would love to be the friend of Harry Potter! Dobby has never been a friend to a wizard before, but Dobby will be most honoured, oh yes!' As Dobby spoke, tears fell from his face in small waterfalls, falling in the abysses caused by his wrinkles.

Harry laughed giddily and closed his eyes in bliss. He had made another friend, and though he was certainly not human, Harry wouldn’t replace him with anything.

Madam Malkin only smiled and continued to go about her work, happy to wait for the boy and house elf to calm down.

* * *

 

Playing with his new pendant, Harry tiredly walked into Number 4, gently shutting the door behind him. Despite it being only late afternoon, he felt exhausted.  Cautiously, he made his way down the hallway into the kitchen.  It was nearing the Dursley’s dinner time and if Harry was to escape punishment, dinner would have to be made quickly and efficiently.

Stepping into the tiled realm, Harry began to pull down the utensils he would need to make the meal. As he cooked, his mind wandered to the many problems he needed to face.  The most prominent worry circling around his head was the pressing need to mention Hogwarts to his Aunt and Uncle.  It was only by lying today and stating that he wanted to visit the local library that saw him allowed to leave Number 4. Harry had stolen some change from his uncle and had instead made his way to Diagon Alley- with Hedwig directing him into the right areas.

Grabbing a tea-towel from a rack near the kitchen window, Harry whispered a goodnight to the setting King and continued to mull over what he had to do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys, just some answers for any questions you might get for this chapter  
> • Harry only has one bank. This is not a Harry Potter heritage story. Why? Because I felt that I already had too much plot planned out.  
> • Harry never gave his name to Hagrid ergo Hagrid will not know it’s him till Hogwarts.  
> • I chose a Cypress wand because according to Pottermore, they are wands suited for those individuals not afraid of shadows. Add that with the Thestral core, and the holly wand and we have a wizard whose wands represent life and death! Just roll with it.  
> • I decided against having Draco making an appearance because I always thought that the Malfoys would have their servants do the work instead. And I like Dobby!
> 
> Coming up: Hogwarts! Where the real plot begins!


	5. The Train and the Castle

The King sat on his azure throne, blazing steadily over the world below him. The Queen’s light had faded the past few hours, leaving the King alone in their starry domain. Dutifully, he sent out his own children, so different to the Queen’s, to rekindle the life of the habitants of Earth. More bright and lively than their opposites, the King’s children burned their way through the metallic cities of mankind, their rays reflecting off the cold surfaces.

Long had the King and Queen performed their tasks with diligence- sending their children day after day and night after night to shed the darkness that desperately clung to Earth.  Of the Kings and Queens of the infinite domain of space, the King of the azure sky was the first and strongest. Alone for so many years, the King had searched for thousands of years for a partner as strong as him. When hope was almost lost, the silvery-white Queen was born and captured his heart. Together they ruled the Earth with wisdom and strength, watching over the inhabitants with a love so fierce it lit the world.

But the inhabitants could never hear them. Creatures and humans alike would gaze at the sky and laugh in wonder at the light that danced at their touch. Not once though, did they ever see the King and Queen for what they were. 

And so the rulers watched the planet for millennias, waiting for someone to hear their calls.

But only one would ever be able to hear them.

At the thought of the boy, the blazing King commanded his children to visit their charge. One lone ray of light, the brightest of them all, shied away from its brothers and sisters and made its way to the little boy that, for many years now, it had looked over. Shining over the boy’s abode, the lone child of light entered the ugly house that housed the boy and ran to the prison under the stairs. There it searched for the aged cracks in the wood that would allow it entry.

Upon entering the cramped space, the ray of light fluttered towards the small body that was sleeping in the shadows.  The body was curled in the fetal position, his limbs too frail to do anything but lie limply. One arm in particular, the right arm, was twisted- it’s shape so unnatural and bent that the King fumed in anger at them who dared to hurt his charge.

_Fix him._

The words reverberated with infinite power and shook the prison. The voice that had whispered was old- but as strong as it was when it had first awakened in the sky. It echoed silently in the little prison, until the words began to pulse like a wild inferno.

_Fix him!_

Ancient magic filtered into the boy’s cage and caressed Harry’s broken body tenderly. Silently, warmth began to seep into the bone-weary boy- rearranging and healing the broken fragments that it found until a smile crept onto the boy’s face and he relaxed in a peaceful rest.

Content with its job done, the light faded away into the sunrise.

* * *

 

Harry woke with a gasp, feeling much better than he did when he fell asleep. Shaken, Harry brushed his bangs from his eyes and stared at amazement at his now mended arm.  ‘Thank you,’ he whispered into the silence, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that it was his friends in the Sky that had healed him.

Inspecting his arm, Harry reminisced on how he had gotten it. He had gotten the broken arm from his _dear_ relatives the night before. Thinking that it was about time that he told them that he would not be attending Stonewall High, Harry had cautiously mentioned to his aunt and uncle over dinner that he was going to Hogwarts. Suffice to say, it was not the smartest approach Harry could’ve taken when telling his magic-hating relatives that he was a wizard and would attend a school for magic-users. After hours of screaming and flying spittle, Harry’s family reluctantly agreed to send him to Hogwarts. But thinking he had succeeded, Harry had made the mistake of smiling in joy.

His uncle did not take that well. Then again, Harry’s uncle never took well to Harry being happy.

Shaking off his memories of the previous night, Harry gingerly stood up, sighing in relief when he felt no pain anywhere.  Stretching as far as he could within the confines of the cupboard, Harry felt a bubble of happiness erupt in his heart. He was going to Hogwarts! And not even his relatives could burst his bubble of happiness.

* * *

 

King’s Cross Station was a bustling place filled with dozens of Muggles. Relatively clean, the station had several platforms distributed arbitrarily in it. Dust motes zoomed around the air, constantly pushed by the occupants within the station. The screams of children were carried by the wind, followed closely by the stern calls of worried parents.

Standing on the edge of Platform 9, a black-haired, green-eyed boy stared uncertainly at the ear-splitting trains. Right hand holding his ticket, Harry subtly looked around him, trying to remember what Hedwig told him about getting on Platform 9 ¾.  As the soft swirls of panic curled in his stomach, he couldn’t help but wish that she hadn’t decided to go hunting.

Feeling self-conscious, Harry decided to stand away from the stampede of Muggles. With his left hand curled protectively around his pendant (which contained all his books and tools for Hogwarts), Harry shuffled and squeezed his way through the crowd. Just as he was about to reach a quiet corner away from everyone, Harry paused mid-step, his eyes trained on the people that had appeared on the platform.

All red-haired, the group of wizards and witches (Harry knew they were magical because he could feel their cores pulsing from where he was standing) were making their way to a solid barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Eyes narrowed in concentration, Harry watched as, in pairs, the red-haired children walked towards the barrier…and vanished.

Grinning at the sheer simplicity of it, Harry hurried towards the barrier, reaching it just as the last red-haired pair vanished. Still grinning, he checked to see if anyone was watching him. Coast clear, Harry rushed towards the sold brick wall and…found himself at Platform 9 ¾.

Not caring if he looked like an idiot, Harry whooped loudly and, ignoring the startled looks of the people around him, made his way to the gleaming Hogwarts Express. Smoke was billowing gently from the train, quietly smothering the people and animals on the station with a thin layer of white. Peripherally, he could just see the red-haired children saying their farewells to what was obviously their mother. A pang of pain went through his heart at the love he could see in the mother’s eyes.

Smile falling from his lips, Harry clenched his hands tightly and walked resolutely down the platform, trying to ignore the yearning in his heart for a family of his own.  Eyes trained ahead, Harry began to look for an empty carriage.  Finding one near the back of the train, Harry climbed up the steps that bridged the gap between the platform and the compartment.

Finding himself in a spacious and comfortable compartment, Harry settled in on one of the red seats provided. A sigh of contentment fell unknowingly from his lips. Never, to Harry's knowledge, had he ever felt anything as soft as the seat underneath him.  He closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax.

The train began to sway slowly, lulling Harry into a soft doze…

* * *

 

The train whistled shrilly, startling Harry awake. Rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand, he yawned and stretched his now stiff muscles. Bleary eyes blinked slowly open- barely able to see in the dim light within the carriage. Frowning, Harry realised that he had slept for a long time. He turned and peeked through the window next to him, brushing his long hair away from his face impatiently so to see through the clean glass.

Fields of grass were rolling by at a steady pace, trees whipped out of view as quickly as they appeared and houses vanished and reappeared  under the white fog that was covering the land. The sun was lavishing the land beneath it with a dusty layer of light- ready to fade away the moment the moon rose.

‘Merlin, I wish I hadn’t fallen asleep,’ Harry whispered to himself, eyes still focused on the beautiful scenery outside.

‘Don’t worry, you haven’t missed much.’

Jumping in fright, Harry spun around so quickly that he nearly toppled over his seat. Squinting, Harry looked at the shadows in the furthest corner of the compartment.  A short, somewhat rounded, blonde boy was sitting nervously across from him. The boy was already wearing his robes for Hogwarts and was clutching a green, lumpy thing in his hands.

‘I didn’t mean to startle you,’ the boy exclaimed anxiously as he edged closer to Harry.  The boy held out his hand (his other still clutching tightly what Harry could now see was a toad) and introduced himself. ‘I’m Neville Longbottom.’

Harry calmed down gradually and felt his heartbeat return to its steady pace. Shaking off his fright, Harry held out his own hand and shook the others happily. ‘Hello Neville! I’m Harry.’

Simultaneous grins broke out on the two boys’ faces as they let go of their grips and settled down again. Harry, after a moment of awkward silence where Neville had visibly become nervous again, tried to lighten the mood. ‘So… your toad looks…dashing. Quite charming for a toad, don’t you reckon?’

A roar of laughter erupted between the two boys and it took more than a few minutes for Harry and Neville to calm down. Wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, Harry grinned as Neville positively beamed at him.

‘Yes, he is quite a charmer,’ Neville said with a grin, ‘Very mischievous too. Likes running around, this one does. Take today for instance. I've been running up and down this train trying to look for him for hours and-’ pausing, Neville looked at Harry guiltily and continued in a rush of words. ‘That’s why I'm here, if you were wandering. I was just about ready to give up on him when I saw him through the window. He was just sitting there a-and I hope you don’t mind me entering.’

It was like looking at a puppy. Harry didn’t think anyone could say no to those eyes. ‘Don’t be silly, Neville. I'm glad that you came in. Any boy with a toad is cool enough to be my friend!’

Ignoring the blush that had creeped up Neville’s neck and cheeks, Harry decided that it would be best to begin acquainting himself with his new friend. Soon enough both boys were talking raucously about everything and anything that popped up in their heads.

‘You lived with Muggles? That’s nothing! You should live with my Gran…’

* * *

 

‘Firs’-years! Firs’-years over here!’ A booming voice shot over the heads of the students loitering at the platform.

Harry, who was just getting off the carriage with Neville, glanced up and beamed when he saw Rubeus. Quickly, he pulled Neville through the crowd of first years until he was standing in front of his giant friend. ‘Rubeus,’ he exclaimed happily, ‘I didn’t know you worked at Hogwarts!’

Beetle-black eyes sparkled under bushy brows and a smile overcame Rubeus’s face when he saw Harry. Gesturing to the other first years who were peering up at him nervously, Rubeus made his way down a narrow, cobbled path. ‘Blimey,’ Rubeus boomed at Harry, ‘I haven’t properly introduced meself, have I? The name’s Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.’

Harry, who had somehow ended up leading the first years, with Neville following him right behind, hurried to keep up with his friend’s large paces. Darkness surrounded the small group of children and Harry wasn’t too keen to being lost on his first day.  ‘It’s alright,’ he said to Rubeus when he caught up, ‘I haven’t introduced myself either. I’m Harry, Harry Potter. And this is my friend, Neville Longbottom.’

Harry and Neville had to stop abruptly so that they wouldn’t collide with Rubeus, who had frozen completely. Whispers broke around them and Harry turned to see the other first year students had stopped too. One of then, a bushy-haired girl with large front teeth, pushed her way through the small crowd and looked towards Harry expectantly, ‘Why have we stopped?’ she inquired.

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry turned…to find himself staring at teary eyes. Rubeus had kneeled down so that he was facing both Neville and Harry, his eyes shifting from one to the other. The man leaned forward, and in the faintest whisper, shattered the worlds of the two boys.

‘Gallopin’ Gorgons! I knew both o’ yer parents…yeh couldn’ find anyone braver an’ more talented ‘n ‘em. When yeh have the time, come over an’ visit me, an’ I’ll tell yeh all I can remember ‘bout ‘em.’

Longing filled the eyes of the two young boys and all Harry and Neville could do was nod their heads, both of them sporting wide grins and feeling euphoric.

Beaming at the boys’ obvious pleasure, Rubeus stood up and, as if he just remembered that he had a group of first years waiting on him, turned and continued heading down the narrow path. ‘Ye’ all get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,’ Rubeus boomed as he hustled the students forward. ‘Just round this bend.’

Harry, who was the first to cross the bend, felt his world erupt with noise and light. Hogwarts stood in all its glory, its turrets and towers shimmering in the night so that the black lake underneath it glowed with an ethereal light.  The silverly light of the moon emphasised the effect until the whole landscape seemed to be pulsing with life.  Standing at the edge of the lake, Harry gazed up at Hogwarts and let loose a whisper of his magic, hoping to get a feel of the castle so far away from him.

It was like someone had pulled the trigger in Harry’s brain, causing it to implode and shatter into millions of pieces.  He was unable to comprehend the sheer amount of ancient power that flew around the castle like an excited child. Harry, unaware of the other students entering the boats, swayed drunkenly as he began to hear a voice beckoning him to the castle.  She- for it was clear that the voice was female- was calling him, pleading with him to come and play with her. Her voice rocketed around his head so forcefully that Harry felt like his very soul would tear apart if he didn’t answer her.

Unable to bear it anymore, Harry felt his body succumb to the darkness. He fainted.

* * *

 

_Hello?_

Harry was drowning in darkness. He was surrounded by all sides by an impenetrable wall that was compressing him. Lungs near bursting, Harry struggled to escape the clutches of the darkness.

_Hello?_

A voice, loud and insistent, was echoing in the vast space. The voice was as young as it was old- like a child’s voice in the body of an old woman.

Not able to see anything, Harry strained his ears to hear the voice again- the only thing that seemed to exist here with him.

_Are you Him?_

 A small beam of light appeared, shedding the darkness like an old skin. The darkness fled with an inhuman screech, leaving Harry floating in the warmth that followed.

_Are you the little Saviour?_

Free from the darkness, Harry frowned as he finally heard what the words were saying. Curious, he turned his head to see if the person speaking was there. Whiteness answered him.

_Master, why won’t you wake up? Why won’t you play with me?_

Utterly baffled, Harry tried to answer to say that he was no one’s Master, but the words escaped him.

_WAKE UP, MASTER!_

Slammed into consciousness, Harry found himself surrounded once again by warmth. Blinking dazedly, his dream already fading away, Harry gazed up to find Rubeus watching him with concern. Rubeus, seeing that Harry was awake, beamed and gently lowered Harry down on solid ground.

‘All righ’ there, Harry? Yeh took a nasty fall there, but don’ fret, I took yeh with me in me boat. We’re here now.’

Still dazed, Harry just nodded and sluggishly joined the first years that were waiting in front of a tall, solid, door.  Harry had only ever seen his uncle drunk once, but he was sure he was doing a very similar impression of him now. Hogwarts, it seemed, was far more powerful than he had thought. The magic that existed in the walls and grounds was enough to make Harry feel nauseous. Even now his head was pounding fiercely, throbbing in time to every pulse he felt from the castle. And there was the voice….

‘Alright, Harry?’

Already tired of hearing that question, Harry turned to see Neville looking him over with no small amount of concern in his eyes. Nodding tiredly, Harry turned around just in time to see the doors open with a groan and a stern looking woman, with hair in a tight bun, stride forward.

Waving farewell to gentle giant, Harry followed the stern women inside what appeared to be a magnificent entrance hall. Feeling a headache come over, he stumbled slightly, bumping into a blond, sneering boy who glared at him. Mouthing ‘sorry’ to the boy, Harry tried to pay attention to the woman talking to the first years. She was saying something about families and houses, but Harry was too far gone to pay her any heed.

‘Form a line, please,’ said the stern witch, ‘and follow me.’

Startled, Harry jogged to catch up with the students who were walking now through a pair of double doors. Seeing Neville frantically wave him over, Harry skidded to a halt next to him and gazed in wonder at the sight before him.

Thousands of candles were floating eerily in the sky, shedding light over four, long tables and a head table at the top. Gold glittered on all the tables, giving the hall a magical look. The roof of the sky was showing the Queen and the night sky in all its splendour. 

Mouth open in awe, Harry strode forward with the rest of his peers until they stood silent in at the front of the hall. Fidgeting at the stares of so many people, Harry focused instead at the black-haired witch who was carrying over a stool in one hand, and holding a battered hat in the other. Placing the hat on the stool, the witch gazed expectantly at the hat for a few moments. Once again finding himself questioning the sanity of magical people, Harry found himself looking at the hat as well. With the witch still looking at the hat a few minutes later, Harry frowned. It was almost like the witch was expecting the hat to-

The hat was singing.

The hat was _singing._

Harry stared. And stared some more. Nope, he wasn’t crazy. The hat was really singing. Mind effectively boggled, Harry could only grin at the sheer awesomeness that was this school. 

‘When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool and be sorted.’

Names started being called out and one by one the students were sorted. Harry cheered enthusiastically to all of them. The bushy-haired girl went into Gryffindor, to which Harry clapped politely. When Neville got sorted into Gryffindor, Harry whooped and clapped loudly, laughing silently at Neville’s furious blush.  The sneering boy came soon after and was sorted into Slytherin.

And then- ‘Potter, Harry’

Ignoring the hushed silence that suddenly enveloped the hall (after all, Hedwig had mentioned to him that he was somewhat famous in the magical world), Harry enthusiastically clambered up the stool so that he was perched preciously on the wooden edge. With a beaming face, Harry jammed the hat on his head.

‘Mr. Potter…’ said a small voice in Harry’s head. ‘What a challenge you present. Difficult…very difficult. There is courage here in your head, and bravery in the face of darkness. Ah, but there is loyalty too. You would never turn your back to your friends. There is also your thirst to learn and prove yourself. My, my, you truly are difficult Mr. Potter. So where to put you?’

 _I want a family_ , Harry thought.

‘A family, you say? Yes, I can see why you would want one. But you will find a family in all the houses. Tell me, Mr. Potter, what is that you _want?_ For you belong to all four houses. I shall take into account what you say. _’_

Thinking quietly, Harry began to ponder on what he wanted. If he was to find a family in all the houses, then Harry didn’t really mind where he would end up. Just as he was about to ask the hat to pick any house, an image of red eyes flashed through Harry's mind. Just like that, Harry knew what he wanted. _Where can I go to learn about _him?__  he thought viscously.  _Where would be the best place for me to learn about stopping _him?__

‘My boy, you truly are a brave soul. But… if this is to be your goal whilst being at Hogwarts… then you better be- SLYTHERIN!’ The last word was shouted out to the midst of the Great Hall.  Sending a silent thank you to the hat, Harry tore of the hat and skipped happily towards the silent green and silver decorated table.

It was Neville who broke the silence. Soon the rest of the school joined, with Slytherin clapping the loudest.

* * *

 

Dumbledore was pacing in his office, his white beard swaying in time to his steps. Next to him, a majestic bird was perching on a golden stool, its yellow eyes trained on the old man. Dumbledore stopped for a moment to caress the bird’s plumage before he continued to pace, his mind going over the countless problems he was facing.

Fingers steepled together, Dumbledore found himself thinking over the year that was to come. More prominently, his thoughts circled around the newest Professor ( _Voldemort_ , his mind whispered). Quirrell had returned from his trip to Albania just recently, where Dumbledore suspected he had met something unsavoury. Though he had no basis for the accusation, Dumbledore was not foolish enough to ignore the feeling he got when he looked into Quirrell’s eyes. This brought the problem of Flamel’s stone, which was to come under his protection.

Then came the issue of young Harry Potter. Dumbledore had been so sure the boy would be placed in Gryffindor, just like his parents. Never, in all his dreams had he thought the boy would be placed in Slytherin. Unease swept over the old man at the notion of Lily and James’s boy being in the snake pit. He knew that there was nothing wrong with being a Slytherin. After all, there were people in all the houses that turned out wrong. But putting Harry in Slytherin meant that Harry would be open to the pressure of his peers…and their unsavoury parents.

Knowing there was nothing he could do about that problem, Dumbledore stopped pacing and wearily sat down on his chair. Fingers rubbing his forehead tiredly, Dumbledore vowed that he would keep an eye out for the boy. It was the least he could do for the little boy that had captured his heart nearly 10 years ago.

* * *

 

Quirrell was pacing in his own office, his hands white-knuckled where they were clutching his wand tightly.  Similar to Dumbledore, this man’s thought were focused entirely on the red stone that was hidden in the school…and on the little black-haired boy with the emerald eyes... the little boy that was the cause of the Dark Lord’s downfall.

No sooner had that thought formed in Quirrell’s head when his Master made his displeasure clear. Pain swept through Quirrell for a few seconds, paralysing his body so that he found himself undulating on the stony floor.

It was over as quick as it came.

Shivering on the floor, his nose pressed so close to the floor that he felt that he was inhaling dust and dirt, Quirrell vowed that by the end of the year, he would have the boy dead. After all, it would be so easy when his Master gained the stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys,
> 
> Okay, so I know that most of my characters are probably way off, but it truly has been a while since I’ve read/watched Harry Potter. However, if you do think I’ve portrayed a character in a most ridiculous and shaming way, do tell me and I’ll do my best to fix it!
> 
> Some of the lines spoken by the characters are taken straight from the book, and that’s because Rowling wrote it in the most perfect way. So yea, all credit for those lines go to the amazing Rowling.


	6. Learning the Past and Living the Present

Harry wasn't scared of many things. But, after living for so many years locked away in a tiny cupboard (‘ _it’s so dark in here…please Uncle Vernon, please let me out!’_ ), Harry would be the first to say that there were some things that he had learned to be afraid of (‘ _Uncle? What are you doing…no- wai-STOP IT! It hurts!’)_.

But this?

This was completely different. And it terrified him.  
  
Harry was standing, alone, in a dark and _broken_ room.  Standing dejectedly around him, four walls stretched towards the heavens, their arms so twisted and bent out of shape that Harry felt that he was being compressed by a giant.  The walls were grimy, broken and chipped in many places, their cracks leaving gaping black holes behind them. Dust motes littered the air, blanketing the room with a curtain of grey, suffocating Harry with their oppressive numbers.

_Little Master? Won’t you play with me?_

Startled, Harry turned around and tried to find the source of the voice that sounded _so_ familiar. But darkness was closing around him, creeping towards him in steady steps, slowly hiding the room from his sight.

_You promised you would play with me._

‘HELLO?!  Is someone there?’ Harry agitatedly called out. Eyes straining in the darkness that was slowly smothering the room, Harry felt a fierce desire awaken within him. He needed to find the voice. ‘Where are you!?’

_Find me…Little Saviour…find me and come play with me._

‘Tell me where you are!’ Harry beseeched the voice, his eyes still desperately trying to pierce the darkness.

_Look for the-_

Darkness fell.

 

 

Harry woke up gasping, eyes staring unseeingly at the green and silver curtains of his four-poster bed.

Trembling, nerves still shaken, Harry sat up and pressed his back to the headboard. A headache had formed and Harry raised his right hand to massage his forehead, barely realizing that he was moving - his thoughts so focused on that voice. It had sounded so familiar! Brows scrunched up in thought, Harry shuffled through his memories trying to match the voice to a speaker.

It hit him so suddenly and swiftly that Harry blinked and cursed himself for not realising it sooner.

He couldn't believe he had forgotten about the voice he had heard when he first saw the castle- the young-old woman who had beckoned him. Granted, Harry had thought it was just an apparition of his dream… but the voice had sounded so powerful. Couple that with the dream he had had just now… and yea, Harry no longer doubted that the voice was real.

It was with these thoughts circling around in his head that Harry fell asleep to.

* * *

 

A pounding headache was making its home in Harry’s head, clouding his mind so much that Harry was beginning to acquire a permanent squint, trying as he was to minimise any light from burning his retinas.  Eyes half shut, Harry continued in his trudge down an empty corridor, barely able to see where he was going. It came as no surprise then when, instead of walking in what he was sure was a straight line, Harry bumped into the stone wall of the corridor.

No, the surprise was the pain that erupted in Harry when he touched the wall.  
  
But then again, after a week of being in the castle, it shouldn't have surprised Harry. Ever since he had arrived at the castle, he had found his body to be constantly aching.  If Harry was to liken it to anything, it would be the pain that a person would get from accidently burning themselves at the stove. And any time he so much as touched the castle, it would grow steadily until Harry felt that his very soul would burn from the excessive amount of magic that was constantly trying to enter his bloodstream.  
  
 Whimpering, Harry pushed himself away from the wall, biting his lips to muffle what he knew were screams.  Shakily, he inspected his arms, trying to see if this time would be any different from all the other times and leave marks on his skin.  Seeing nothing but pale skin, Harry shivered and continued to shuffle along the corridor, desperately trying to ignore the voice in his head that was telling him that the pain he was feeling was important.

Reaching the end of the corridor, Harry groaned when he saw a staircase.  As he slowly manoeuvred his aching body down the stairs, Harry cursed the architect that decided stairs were a necessity for Hogwarts. Why did Hogwarts need them? Had they been absolutely necessary? Harry didn't think so. In fact, he was sure that he had heard some older students talk about flying. Why couldn’t they just fly to class?

Silently snorting at where his thoughts were leading him, Harry stepped off the last stair…and promptly crashed into the person that had just rounded the corner.

‘Neville?’

‘Harry? What are- are you alright? You look terrible!’

Peering down in the eyes of his Gryffindor friend, Harry couldn't help but smile. In the few days that he had so far spent in Hogwarts, Harry had been immediately introduced to steady glares and silent looks from several of the student body. Neville had steadfastly refused to ignore Harry like the others, and had instead continued to sit next to Harry in their shared classes.  Harry wasn't entirely too sure what he had said or done that deserved such loyalty, but was nonetheless grateful.

‘Harry?’

Jerked back to the present, Harry smiled reassuringly and tried to calm his friend’s concern. ‘It’s nothing, Neville, just feeling a bit down. I’m sure I’ll be better in no time.’

Hoping that his words would stop Neville from running his eyes through him, Harry was slightly miffed ( _comforted_ ) when Neville only gave a halting smile back, nodded his head and continued to look Harry over for any other problem. Fidgeting under the close attention he was receiving, Harry tried to rack his brain for anything that would get the other boy’s attention away from him.

It dawned on him slowly. Really, there was only one reason why Neville would be heading down the same area as him. With a somewhat sadistic smile gracing his face, Harry cheekily drawled out in his best impersonation of the blonde, first year Slytherin that was always stalking him. ‘So…you ready for Potions? I hear Snape does not take well to late-comers...which would be us if we don’t get moving.’

The change in Neville’s demeanour was instant. Fear quickly overrode any concern Neville might have had for his friend as he regressed back into the shy boy that Harry had first met in the carriage.

‘P-Potions! Merlin, I forgot! Come on Harry!’ And without any warning, Neville anxiously grabbed Harry by his hand and dragged him down the countless flights of stairs and corridors that littered Hogwarts.

But if Harry noticed that Neville’s hold on his hand was soft, he said nothing, content as he was to follow his friend’s lead into the darkest, most dreaded, place in Hogwarts.

 

 

Sitting as comfortably as he could on the hard benches of the class, Harry watched as the last of the red and green students entered the misty class. As the students went about their business and took out their books and parchments all without paying him any heed, Harry was beginning to think that glaring or neglecting him was going to be the new norm. And if it wasn’t for Neville, who was right now glaring at the Gryffindors, Harry would have had to subject himself to being lonely. As it was, Harry just smiled at Neville, content in having just one friend.

‘I will have silence.’  
  
It was not just Harry and Neville’s head that snapped towards the door, where the menacing figure of Snape was standing. As Snape glided down to the front of the class, the whole class was silent, afraid as they were of Snape’s legendary dislike for all those _disobeying._

‘Wands away, and turn to page 45.’

As the class shivered at the icy tone of the man, and hastened to open their books, Harry stared at Snape.

Shadows lurked around Snape, entangling themselves with his very being, so that he looked like a hybrid of darkness and man. Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued by his potions teacher.

So he stared.  
  
And promptly began cursing inwardly as he gathered that, just like with all of his other peers and teachers, his stupid headache was blocking his power into seeing people’s magic cores. With a mental sigh, Harry resignedly realised that until his body got accustomed to Hogwarts's magic, he would have to hope that the mysteries surrounding Snape would unravel themselves eventually.  
  
So he continued to stare.

But as always, Snape ignored him.  
  
It was only when Neville elbowed him and pleadingly looked at him for help that Harry turned his gaze away from the man that he was determined to solve.

 

* * *

 

Harry was running through the corridors, his heart pounding in time with his constant headache. As per the norm in the Slytherin common room, all students had to wake themselves up. Usually, Harry would remember to set an alarm (a useful spell he had learned accidently while overhearing some sleep-bedraggled Ravenclaws) but he had been so occupied with the voice in his dreams that he had forgotten to place it. And it wouldn’t matter that he would only be late to breakfast, because Snape would be sure to hear of it. 

And as Snape had drilled into all the first year Slytherins' heads: a Slytherin is _never_ late (“If a Slytherin cannot learn to wake him or herself up, they will never learn to succeed in life,” Snape had punctuated in a soft but deadly tone, promising pain to any student who might be thinking of disobeying).

Pushing himself faster, Harry began to push as much air as he could into his straining lungs, exerting it all into a fast sprint that saw him hurdling around the corner but skidding to an abrupt halt when he nearly crashed. On the smashed crystal chandelier.

Curious, Harry cautiously made his way towards the fragments of glass and metal that littered the stone floor.  As quietly as he could (well as quietly as one could after running a marathon), he knelt a few inches away from the debris and reached a hand forward, careful of all the sharp tips and broken edges.  It was as he was lifting a large shard that Harry caught a flash of colour zooming past him and a soft cackle that echoed through the corridor. 

Curiosity more than awakened, Harry stood up and peered at the long stretch of corridor in front of him, sharp eyes raking over all the shadowy crevices that could hide someone.

But whoever had raced by had long since disappeared.

‘Quickly now, Mrs. Norris! We have him now!’

Startled, Harry jumped and swivelled his head so quickly that his neck nearly snapped.

He knew that voice.

The same instincts that kept Harry alive back at Privet Drive abruptly rose in him and began yelling at him to run for his life. Being found by Filch in front of a crime scene would not be beneficial to his survival at Hogwarts.

Not needing any other incentive, Harry ran down the corridor, his curiosity over the mysterious culprit long forgotten.

*

 _Dear Harry and Neville,_  
  
_I know the both of you get Friday afternoons off, so would you both like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?_  
  
_I want to hear all about your first weeks. And I owe you both some stories about your parents. Send an answer back with this owl._  
  
_Hagrid_

 

 

Folding up the crumpled letter, Harry beamed. Glancing up, he saw Neville with a similar crumpled letter and a very similar grin to the one he wore. As if feeling his gaze, Neville’s eyes met Harry’s own, and the boys spent a few minutes smiling like loons over the heads of the other students.

‘Ouch!’

Looking down, Harry saw that the owl that had carried Rubeus’s letter had pecked him rather viciously on the palm of his right hand, drawing a small drop of blood. Realising that Neville and him must have wasted more than a few minutes day-dreaming, Harry picked up his bag from under the Slytherin table and plonked it down in front of his breakfast plate.  Ignoring the glares from his adjacent peers (who, to their displeasure, suddenly found themselves facing a rather undignified, ratty bag), Harry quickly rummaged through his bag for a quill and ink pot. Grabbing the first set he touched, Harry doggedly wrote out his answer on the back of Rubeus’s paper and gently gave it to the brown owl in front of him, cautious of his hands this time.

He spent a few seconds watching the owl ascend, happy to just sit and be able to dream away his day. He hadn’t been at Hogwarts for long, but Harry already loved it. It was his home – a place of solitude and safety, where he was free to day-dream, to run wild and _be himself._ Where the Dursley’s were never able to reach him and hurt him again.

And Hogwarts loved him too.

Though his headaches were still persisting daily, and his magic was stifled and not as clear as it was before, Harry could still catch a vague feeling of love whenever he was standing in Hogwarts.  She would laugh at him and throw muffled "hello’s", would change the ground underneath his feet so that he found himself lost in a new and unfound room, would call out to him in his dreams in pleading tones and would still smile when he never replied.

 _If only I could find a way to talk to her_ , Harry thought dully, mind shuffling through all the possible reasons why his magic had not yet assimilated to the castle, and hence, enable him to exert all his resources in finding her.  He couldn’t even touch Hogwarts without screaming in pain, for Merlin’s sake!  

To make matters worse, Hedwig had disappeared since his arrival, yet he just _knew_ that she would be instrumental in finding the room in his dreams and balancing his magic out. But Harry also knew that he had no control over Hedwig and that there were days where she would leave him to be with her own family in the sky. Yet knowing that never stopped the pang of sadness he always got when he was separated by her.

Sighing and blinking away the layer of melancholy that had taken over him, Harry turned to finish his breakfast.

His reflection waved back at him, the empty gold plate that was a moment ago half-full reflecting Harry’s stunned face. Turning to the Slytherin next to him to ask what happened, Harry gasped as he was faced with air. Head swivelling to the Great Hall, Harry blinked as he saw that he was the last Slytherin on his table.

And blinked again as he noticed that the whole hall was, in fact, empty.

 _Merlin’s beard! I’m late again_ , Harry screamed internally. In a dizzying rush, he stood up, grabbed his bag, and dashed through the open doors, all the while cursing the Slytherins for being individually-orientated.

_Sodding snakes._

 

 

‘Mr. Potter, late again are we? Five points from Slytherin! Now please, sit yourself down.’

Still panting, Harry could only nod his head at his Transfiguration Professor as he found an empty seat.  Giving him one last stare, McGonagall sniffed and turned back to the class, her elongated wand softly demonstrating the class’s current project: turning a quill into a glass.

Situating himself next to a blonde-haired Hufflepuff whose name Harry couldn’t quite remember, Harry began taking out some parchment and his wand. Twirling the holly wand in his hand (his other wand was _different_ and ought never be used unless necessary), he faced McGonagall again and tried to focus on what they were supposed to be learning.  

It would be so much easier if his headache would stop pounding him.

Sighing, and hoping that he could get away without being singled out, Harry scribbled some notes out and tuned out the Professor, mind focused on Rubeus’s letter. To say that he was ecstatic would be an understatement. To learn about his parents would be a dream come true and Harry just hoped that maybe, just _maybe_ , his giant friend would have pictures too.

‘Mr Potter! Cease your mind from wandering and bring your attention forward! Now, if it’s not too much of a bother, demonstrate the wand movement and incantation needed for this task.’

Snapping out of his daze, Harry grimaced and flexed his wand, hoping beyond hope that his magic would respond enough for such a _simple_ task.  He was really getting tired of looking the fool.

A pause.

A whisper of a breath.

And Harry was left staring at a beautiful crystal glass, its shine reflecting off his spell’s dying embers. Grinning at his magic’s quick response, Harry met the gaze of his stunned professor and felt his smile widen _. It feels nice to finally get something right_ , Harry thought. He had had just about enough with the disappointed looks from his teacher.

‘Well… I must say Mr Potter, this is definitely an improvement to before.  Three points to Slytherin.’

Harry beamed.  Oh yea, this was a sign that his magic was definitely improving. Slowly and not as fast as he would like, but magic was magic and had infinite patience, so Harry couldn’t be picky. Then again, it could have been just a fluke. His headache was still persisting, and so was the pain in his body.  His thoughts quickly wiping the smile from his face, Harry pouted and hoped desperately that it wasn’t a fluke.

* * *

 

‘Are you ready?’

‘Are you?’

It was five to three, on a Friday, and Harry and Neville were anxiously standing in front of a small hut. A solid oak door stood in front of them, its thick exterior acting as a tough barricade against the winter storms that sometimes sneaked in before their time.

Giving one final nervous glance to Neville, Harry breathed in and stretched his hand to rap against the door. For a few beats the raps echoed in the still silence, resonating softly throughout the hut. Soon after, a volley of barks replied, followed by the booming voice of Rubeus.

‘Stand back, lads!’

Neville jumped back so quickly that, in his haste, he tripped and tumbled to the soft ground. Harry, who had wisely taken the step backward with care, felt the corners of his mouth lift up at the sight of his clumsy friend.  Truly Neville was one of a kind.

In the second that Harry reached down his hand to help Neville, the oaken door was pushed forward and Rubeus’s frame filled the vast majority of the empty space behind, the little space remaining filled with the large dog that had barked. The giant, taking no heed of Neville’s blushing face as Harry helped him get up, smiled broadly and beckoned the two boys in.

‘Neville, Harry, glad ter see yeh could come. The tea’s nearly ready, so make yerselves at home.’

Mirroring Rubeus’s broad smile, Neville walked determinedly in in front of Harry, all set to forget about his bout of shyness. He was with friends now, and as Harry was slowly teaching him, he could be himself without worry of judgement.

Walking in behind Neville, Harry took his time gazing at his larger friend’s home. A pang of _something_ hit his heart at the sight of the warmth abode. A large fireplace at the end of the hut shed light on an over-stuffed armchair, a large table that could sit about 10 wizards and an equally large bed that took up half of the space. Pots, pans and other utensils hung from the roof in a beautiful, haphazard manner that exuded chaos (though Harry was sure that Rubeus would have no trouble in navigating the mess).  Any remaining space was occupied by small wooden chairs that were obviously meant for any guest that Rubeus might have (another pang went through Harry as he noticed the thick layer of dust on them).

Sitting himself down in his armchair, Rubeus beckoned the two boys to grab a chair and pull them up next to him. A broad grin was stretched across his face, testament of his joy at having people over.

‘So, tell me ‘bout yer firs’ week. Bin up ter any mischief?

Neville laughed and poked a blushing Harry’s side. ‘Mischief? Well, I don’t know about me, but from what I’ve heard about Harry, mischief is in his heart.’

‘Hey, I resent that! I’ve only been late a few times-’

‘Well yes, but what about that time you barged into the teacher’s staffroom?’

Harry’s face was beetroot as he spluttered out his excuse. ‘I thought it was my classroom! And how do you even know about that!?’

‘And you didn’t notice the sign on the door? And of course I know about that, the whole school does!’

Rubeus, who had been listening silently to the two boys banter with each other, chuckled at Harry’s indignant face. ‘Don’ fret it, laddy! It happens ter the bes’ o’ us!’

Harry’s indignant face turned to Rubeus now and he mocked glared at his giant friend.  ‘Yes, but how does the school know about it?!’

Rubeus grinned as the easy answer fell from his lips. ‘Fred an’ George, o’ course! Two o’ the bigges’ mischief-makers this school has ever had an’ yeh  can bet yer galleons that, if summat happens on school grounds, those two problem-makers will know ‘bout it before the end o’ the day. Why, if it wasn’ fer yeh father an’ his friends, those two Weasleys would have the record.’

Harry gripped onto his chair’s armrest tightly and gaped at Rubeus. ‘My father was a mischief-maker?’ he asked shyly.

Neville, who was sitting adjacent to Harry, turned his own intrigued gaze to Rubeus.

The small giant turned sad eyes to Harry and nodded his head, his faint smile hidden under his large beard.  ‘Aye. He an’ his group o’ friends wreaked havoc wherever they wen'. Why, I remember this one time ‘im an’ 'is friend Sirius Black changed all the Slytherins hair ter brigh’ red. The spell lasted a full week, an’ the Slytherins were absolutely furious-’

Here, Rubeus paused and looked intently at Harry. ‘Know this Harry. Yer father was a trouble-maker, aye, but a braver hear’ yeh couldn’ find anywhere. I’ll tell yeh all the stories I know, but always remember that yer dad was a good man.’

A soft silence enveloped the room, as all the individuals within in mulled over that sentence. Rubeus felt his eyes glisten as he remembered the small group of boys that had befriended him with the same amount of love that Harry himself had shown. Neville smiled, happy to know that Harry had gained something else from his parents other than their looks (though one had to look hard as Harry often liked to keep his hair out and considering its length, it was hard for anyone to notice anything). And Harry cried as he felt his heart shatter.

If it wasn’t for the kettle that blew a few seconds later, the room’s occupants were sure that a few minutes would have been spent in silence. As it was, Rubeus lumbered up from his rest and bustled around the hut, readying the tea and snacks he had prepared for the boys.

‘I didn’ know wha' yeh lads preferred in terms o’ food, so I made yeh some o' me famous rock cakes.’

‘That’s okay, Rubeus’, Neville replied absent-mindedly, ‘I’m sure we’ll enjoy them.’ Barely aware of Rubeus bustling around them, Neville focused on his best friend next to him. Harry was still crying softly, his tears trickling down his face in silent rivers. Bending over the space between their two chairs, Neville reached out his arm to turn Harry’s head to his. Looking deeply into them, Neville smiled. ‘You okay, mate?’

‘Yea,’ Harry whispered chokingly, ‘I’ll be just fine. Thanks Nev.’

Neville grinned in reply and turned back to Rubeus, who had just finished placing the food and drinks on the table.

‘He’ll be fine, Neville. Just give ‘im a few minutes.’

Neville nodded and took a bite out of a rock cake. Which was a mistake, he realised, as his teeth began to scream for mercy. Subtly nursing his jaw, Neville breathed in deeply and faced the giant.

‘So Rubeus…you said you also knew my parents, right?’

The same soft smile from before graced the small giant’s face, and sad, but still twinkling, black eyes looked over to Neville. _‘_ Aye, I knew ‘em both. Yer mother was a smar' witch, with a kind and lovin’ heart. She used ter visit me sometimes, an’ would talk on an’ on ‘bout her little pet projects in Herbology-’

Neville choked and gripped his tea cup with white knuckles. ‘She liked Herbology?’

‘One o’ her favourite subjects. But, I would expec’ yer grandmother already knew all ‘bout her love fer plants.’

‘N-no…Gran doesn’t talk much about Mum. Barely even mentions my Dad as it is.’

Rubeus frowned thoughtfully and, placing his half-eaten cake down, stood up and placed a hand on Neville’s shoulder. As Neville gazed up at him, he smiled and bent his head so that his mouth was level to the boy’s ear.

‘Yer mother had a beautiful soul. An’ when she fell in love yer father, the both o’ ‘em outshone the whole world.’

 

 

And so it came, that in the next hour, as darkness enveloped the hut, Rubeus regaled the two children with countless stories, each one causing one or both of the boys to laugh and cry. Tales of daring bravery and outright stupidity where shouted alongside the whispered recountings of war and bloodshed. Rubeus left out nothing, and the boys spent that one hour, that one _blessed_ hour, with their parents.

It was the darkness that woke up Harry from his half-daze. He had been lost in Rubeus’s tales and had lost track of time. Looking around him now at the shadows that had crept unnoticed in the hut, Harry realised that Nev and him should be heading back.

Rubeus was still talking and his soft, rough voice was echoing around the large room, hypnotising Neville (and a minute ago, Harry too). Fang, who had been introduced to the two boys at the half-hour mark, was sleeping soundly under the table with his head a few inches short of Rubeus’s feet.  Harry smiled and was just about to open his mouth to interrupt his two friends, when he paused.

The fading sunlight had been filling the room and its furniture with elongated shadows, but one corner of the table, the one closest to the window, was still layered in light. A newspaper was sprawled on the wooden surface, its body placed in just the right position for Harry to read the flashing text.

_GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN_

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards of witched unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. “But we’re not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what’s good for you,” said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

Frowning, Harry interrupted the conversation with Rubeus and Neville. ‘Rubeus…I thought Gringotts couldn’t be broken in? And what would someone want to steal that was so important that they would risk being caught by the goblins?’

Pausing in his tale of Alice hexing the students that were bullying Frank- coincidently the first time that the two had met- Rubeus turned to Harry and looked at what the boy was pointing to. His face cleared and he smiled broadly. ‘Don’ yeh worry ‘bout the break-in, Harry. Everythin’’s being taken care o’ by Dumbledore and Flamel.’

‘Who’s Flamel?’ Harry curiously asked.

It was shocking how fast Rubeus’s face turned red. The giant was spluttering now, telling Harry and Neville not to dwell on what wasn’t their business. And gosh, would you look at the time? Before they knew it, Harry and Neville were pushed out of their friend’s house and had a wooden door slammed in their face.

‘Well, that was…’

‘…weird, right?’

‘Yea…do you think…’

‘That he’s hiding something? Oh yea.’

Facing each other, Harry and Neville burst out laughing. Shaking their heads at their friend’s antics, the two turned and made their way to the looming castle that was their home.

‘Hey, Harry?’

‘Yea, Nev?’

‘That was awesome, right?’

‘Yea’, Harry replied, thinking about all that he had learnt about his parents, ‘It was.’

As they trudged up together in silence, each boy thinking of the new knowledge they had learnt, it came to Harry that he didn't know what happened to Neville's parents. Musing over it, Harry wandered whether they had died when Neville was young or whether he had known parts of them.

‘Hey, Neville?’ Harry asked a few minutes later, when they were just about to crest the last roll of green that stood between Hogwarts and Rubeus’s hut. ‘I know this is a bit rude of me to ask…but what happened to your parents? I mean, I know something happened…’

Neville turned to face his anxious friend, and looking at his sad face, decided that it was about time that someone knew about what his mother and father did for the war. After all, he shouldn’t be ashamed of being a Longbottom. Especially not with Harry.

So he opened his mouth and told Harry everything he knew about one Bellatrix Lestrange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yea…been a few months right? Don’t kill me, please. I really am sorry about that. Though in my defence I did mention that my posts would be random, so like, don’t sue me XD. Sorry that is shorter than the last chapter…but like…my brain happened to hit a brick wall so I decided to end it there. I promise to make the next one longer if that’s any consolation. 
> 
> Okay, so this was, of course, un-beta’d, so if you mistake, do tell me. This chapter was just Harry acquainting himself with Hogwarts. The actual plot will be in the next chapter. As well as Harry’s thoughts on his peers (including the arrogant blonde that we all love and that’s been stalking Harry). 
> 
> So. Love it? Hate it? Want me to add something? Think I should get rid of something? Do comment and tell!
> 
> P.S: Can you guess who it was that Harry caught a glimpse of? Yea? Well, remember them, 'cos I have a use for them.


	7. Peeved to see you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahah....
> 
> Sorry guys for making you wait this long. Forgive me?

Something wasn’t right with Potter. 

Lounging comfortably in his personal chambers, Severus raised his glass of wine to his lips and took a sip. Sighing in pleasure at the rich taste, he contemplated his previous thought: _there was something wrong with Potter._

If Severus had to find a word for it, it was the complete lack of… _a child_ that was wrong. 

There was power in the boy’s eyes. Something cunning and careful in the way he gauged others, something dangerous in how he completed his work in potions with such precision and care, and something inherently _wrong_ in the way he communicated with his peers (like an old mentor, always teaching as if he were the one on the outside). Then there were the times when Severus caught the boy outside, staring at the sun as if it was the greatest object that existed. The boy’s eyes would be sparkling, and a look of bliss would cross his face.

In those rare moments, Severus saw something _ancient_.

So when Severus looked at Harry, he didn’t see James looking back (as he had thought he would). Nor Lily for that matter (as he had wished). No, when Severus looked at Harry he saw something _other_ looking back.

To put it bluntly, the boy was enigma that Severus just wasn’t equipped to handle.

Staring at his fireplace, a white marble piece that glittered in the red flames, Severus drank the remainder of his wine, set it down on the oak table in front of him, and closed his eyes. He needed to focus. He couldn’t simply continue ignoring the boy (he could, but the Old Coot would find out and gently admonish him and that just wasn’t an option, thank you very much. He had had enough lectures over his lifespan from the Headmaster to know that not all of them were pleasant). On one hand, his debt to James meant that he was obliged to look over the child (as did his duty as Head of Slytherin). On the other, Severus was out of his depth in handling a child as complex as Potter.

The flames crackled.

The pendulum thrummed.

Severus opened his eyes and let out an exhale that echoed loudly in his stone chamber.

He had a plan. (And Dumbledore would just have to accept it because Severus wasn’t inclined to change it and he could be stubborn too).

* * *

 

‘Oi, Potter!  Get out of our way.’

Harry groaned as he suddenly found his face smashed against Hogwarts’s gritty floor. The same searing pain that Harry had long ago accepted lashed at his body, though it was somewhat dampened this time (proof that his magic was balancing itself).  Ignoring the pain, Harry levered himself up and frowned as he saw the snickering forms of three Gryffindor boys walking away.

Ronald Weasley, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas.

Harry wasn’t entirely sure what had he had done to give them any impression he was dark, but those three boys had decided that he was the living reincarnation of Voldemort.  It was as if the moment he was placed in Slytherin, his fate had been decided – that he would fall into darkness and rule the world.

It was a nice sentiment, but Harry was perfectly content being a student.    

Holding his tongue from saying anything scathing, Harry shakily stood up and analysed the level of pain he was in. _It’s almost sad_ , Harry thought as he patted his body down, _that I came to Hogwarts thinking that I’d finally be away from the hate of others, but instead found more._   Seeing no bruises or open wounds, Harry thanked Merlin for small mercies and continued on his way to dinner. 

As Hedwig once told him (and Harry wasn’t getting worried about her long absence, he _wasn’t_ ): it does not do to dwell on the past.

He was humming to himself, mind elsewhere, when he turned the corner and saw the smashed chandelier.  He paused, mouth gaping at the symmetrical beauty of the glass shards spread out before him.

Really, what was with Hogwarts and smashed chandeliers? Mind mulling over the fact that it couldn’t be a coincidence that this was the second victim he’d seen in the same week, Harry nearly didn’t catch the whisper floating behind him.

‘Oh, Potter, you rotter…’

Nearly toppling over in his rush to turn around, Harry’s neck painfully _twinged_ as he completed his 180 degree twirl. Shadows glistened in the evening light and lengthened the corridor. Yet sunlight there still was and Harry, from where he was standing, was perfectly able to see the entirety of the corridor.

No one was there.

‘Hello?’ Harry tentatively asked, ‘is anyone there?’ Taking a few cautionary steps around the smashed chandelier, Harry jogged down the stone floor until he reached the adjacent corridor. Peering around the corner, he frowned when the silence echoed his call. ‘Hello?’

‘QUICKLY, MRS NORRIS!’

‘Oh Potter, you rotter, look what you’ve done! You’ve made Filch mad, just like your dad!’

There wasn’t any other word for it. Harry squawked. There, floating two inches from his face, was a ghostly man in the weirdest attire Harry had ever seen.  He was smiling a Cheshire grin, his stretched mouth revealing yellow teeth; black eyes glittered underneath a mane of black hair, thick tendrils floating atop his head like a halo of darkness.

‘Who are you?’ blurted Harry.

A look of disbelieve flickered on the man’s face before it was replaced by a cackle. ‘Oh Potter, you rotter, do you not know? I’m peeved to see you, you’d be glad to know!’

‘What?’

‘I SEE THEM, MRS NORRIS!’

‘Too late, Potter! Maybe next time Old Peeves will tell you’. And with that, the ghostly man disappeared down the corridor, leaving a slack-jawed Harry behind, frozen where he was standing.

That precious moment was all it took for a gnarly hand to grab Harry’s shoulder, crooked fingers digging into his soft flesh. A hot breath moistened the back of Harry’s neck as the deep croaky voice of Filch spoke. ‘Who do we have here? A Potter by the looks of it! Ah, Severus will-’

Harry didn’t hesitate. Smashing his elbow in the other man’s stomach, Harry lurched and wrenched his body away from Filch. Stumbling a little, he backed away cautiously from the howling man before turning tail and pelting himself down the corridor, heart in his mouth.

There would be a day where Filch would catch him.

But it was not this day.

 

Later, when Neville asked Harry about why he ran away, he told his friend that it was all in the name of self-defense, thank you very much.

Neville had only laughed.

(Harry didn’t think his friend believed him, which was, to say the least, very rude)

 

* * *

 

Harry was faced with a dilemma.

In front of him, spread across the green field looking innocent and bland, was a broomstick. An honest to Merlin broomstick - wooden and dusty, with a dishevelled tail that had seen better days.

They wanted him to ride it.

Correction – they wanted him to sit on it and _fly it_.

He wasn’t entirely sure whether he should be giddy or shocked. He knew absolutely nothing about flying – let alone flying a broomstick – yet he couldn’t stop the bubble of excitement in his stomach.

‘I can see you’re looking forward to the lesson then, Harry,’ said Neville as he settled next to Harry’s right, glancing with a frown at his own broken looking broom.

‘I see you aren’t’, Harry replied with a grin. It was no secret that Neville held a deep hatred for anything that wasn’t the solid ground under him.

‘Is that really a surprise?’ a harsh voice interrupted. ‘I mean everyone knows Longbottom isn’t good at anything,’ Weasley said with a taunting smirk. Finnigan and Thomas stood a few inches behind him, matching smirks glued on their faces.

Harry frowned, his eyebrows furrowing as he glanced between Neville and the three Gryffindors. He knew that the Gryffindors were giving Neville problems for befriending him, but had never been aware of the extent. Judging from Neville’s darkening expression and the automatic widening of the three boys’ smirks, it was clear to Harry that there was more going on in the Gryffindor house then Neville told him.

Deciding that the least he could do was protect his friend, Harry stepped forward until his body was subtly hiding Neville. ‘You got a problem with that, Weasley?’

A hush fell over the first year Slytherins and Gryffindors that were near enough to hear their conversation. Glancing to his left, Harry saw the curly-headed, intelligent Gryffindor girl who was in some of his classes. She was glaring at Ronald with disdain - a clear indicator that Ronald wasn’t entirely liked by his peers. To Harry’s right, Malfoy and his goons were staring intently at him, ignoring the Gryffindors completely with an aloof air.

(Harry still wasn’t sure how he was going to address his stalker yet- as of yet, all he got from the blond were contemplative eyes). Maybe Malfoy was still testing him? After all, it didn’t take a genius to know that the blond controlled his fellow first years.

Sighing at his growing list of problems, Harry turned back to the trio in front of him.

And had to stop himself from laughing at their purpling faces (and in no way did purple and red ever go hand in hand).

‘No one asked for your opinion, Potter. We know you’re just trying to protect your only friend. It isn’t your fault your friend is dim witted.’

Even if Neville’s face didn’t get that resigned look (as if he was used to being told he was subpar to others), Harry wouldn’t have let a comment like that slide. Growling in the back of his throat, he stepped forward until he was only an inch away from the redhead. ‘Dim witted is he? Like you?’ He snarled, ‘because last time I checked Weasley, Neville is doing better in his classes than you.’

The ensuing silence was only made better by Weasley’s spluttering face. Now, Harry never condoned bullying. But he had no qualms about bullying someone who was, in essence, another bully. An eye for an eye as the saying went.

Filled with an equal rush of embarrassment and hate, Weasley snarled and stepped even closer to Potter. However, just as he was ready to spit out another insult, Madam Hooch’s profile could suddenly be seen strolling down the grassy courtyard. ‘We’ll finish this later, Potter,’ Weasley said instead as he walked away to his own broomstick.

‘I look forward to it,’ Harry replied.

And that would have been the end of the story if Finnigan hadn’t turned around and _spat_ at Neville.

Neville tensed.

And Harry felt a fury unlike anything he had ever felt before. What right did these _uncouth barbarians_ have to make his friend tense in such fear and embarrassment?

He would not allow it.

* * *

 

The pendulum thrummed quietly, its ring echoing softly through Severus's chamber. The fire crackled in tandem with the old clock, its red tongues lapping at the fireplace on which the small clock sat. 

Severus, lounging on his armchair in front of the fire, pinched the bridge of his nose and felt the tension that he had worn through the day seep out of his bones. He sighed and relaxed back into his chair, opening his eyes to gaze keenly into the fire.

The Potter brat.

Now, Severus was well aware that Hogwarts’ students (excluding his Slytherins who were well above the other houses) were all simpletons who fell back to their primitive ways on a daily basis. So to hear that one of his first year students had fallen on those ways was unheard of. 

(Though the fact that that student was Potter, meaning his blood was tainted by his pesky father, meant that Severus should have seen it coming much sooner.)

There he was in the morning, teaching a class of somewhat intelligent Ravenclaw students, when a Gryffindor had vulgarly burst in, panting as if she had run a marathon.  Severus had promptly yelled at the small girl, subtracted several house points from her house (and he wasn't playing favourites, whatever the Old Coot might say) and caused her to cry. However, through her tears, the girl had stammered something about Severus being needed immediately at the courtyard because one of his students had assaulted three Gryffindors.

Usually, hearing news like that would have Severus smiling and awarding his students for putting Gryffindors in their places. But when he found that it was Potter doing the punching, well, let’s just say that Severus’s life just got harder.

It took all but one minute for Severus to get the full story from the quacking student: Longbottom (no surprise that it involved him) was being bullied by three first year Gryffindors. The three boys had decided to succumb to child pettiness. Apparently Potter did not take that well and the Slytherin was now in the process of being yelled at by Madam Hooch.

What followed was a series of events that resulted in a drained Severus, a far too pleased Potter, a furious Pomfrey and a slightly amused Headmaster.

And now Severus was left to decide a detention that would fit the crime (though in Severus's opinion, no crime had taken place because Gryffindors were well known for being moronic brain dead fools with no intelligence whatsoever, and hence begged to be punished).

Sometimes Severus really hated being head of Slytherin house. 

(Potter had a large part in Severus’s growing hate).

(And the Weasley brat that was just as menacing and dim witted as his brothers).

 

* * *

 

The evening lights, mere children compared to their morning counterparts, trickled down the common room, illuminating the stone walls of the dungeon with hues of red and orange. Quietly, the King’s embers touched the oak tables and the comfortable chairs that lay scattered periodically around the room, lengthening the shadows that already creeped forth.

A lone light, the youngest from its brothers and sisters, crept past the shadows, steadily making its way to one of the occupants that was sleeping soundly near the dying fire. With a small bout of mischief, it leaped on to the black-haired boy’s sleeping face and caressed it with small butterfly kisses.

Harry startled awake at the touch, but smiled sleepily when he saw the King’s child. Stretching in its warmth, Harry sook his lethargic limbs back to life and yawned. He eyed his homework (lying arbitrarily on the oak desk in front of him) but decided against completing it. Grabbing his school bag from under his chair, Harry chucked all his papers and quill inside.

Thanking the King’s child for waking him up, Harry ran out of the common room and pelted up the stairs, failing to notice the pair of grey eyes that tracked his progress from behind a tapestry of Salazar.

He had an appointment to keep after all.

Slowing down to a fast walk (it was near impossible to run and maintain the fast past in Hogwarts’s many passages), Harry let his mind wander as his feet unconsciously made their way through the castle. There were many things he was mulling over, the first being the very reason he was walking to the hospital wing.

The three Gryffindor rats.

Though Harry was somewhat sad he hadn’t had the opportunity to try flying, he was still delightfully happy about the damage he had caused the other boys. After their vindictive insult to Neville, Harry had furiously jumped on Finnigan, punching, and consequently breaking, his nose. The two boys had fallen into a tangle of legs and arms, whilst the students around them yelled for their mentor. However, in his fall, Harry had lost sight of Thomas and Weasley, who had jumped on Neville – consequently causing him to trip onto his broom, shoot up into the air, and then promptly fall with a resounding crash.

To say Harry had been furious would be a severe understatement.

Roaring in anger, Harry had abruptly kicked Finnigan in the groins - practically knocking him out of consciousness – jumped off and ran at the other boys who were hurting his friend.

Sadly, one of the students had ran to get Madam Hooch who was, to say the least, not pleased. After casting a paralysis spell on all four of them, Harry found himself yelled at by her, whilst several of the other students were told to help the injured Gryffindors to the infantry and bring Professor Snape.

All of which accumulated to result in one furious Professor Snape, one grouchy Quidditch mentor and a handful of gossiping school children who had nothing better to do than watch Harry get verbally assaulted by his teachers.

Smiling at the memory fondly (there was something innately satisfying in punching those Gryffindor first years), Harry turned the corner and hastened his pace. He was nearing the hospital wing and he didn’t want Neville to see him ‘brooding’ as his friend had started calling it.

 

 

The hospital wing was white. An all-encompassing, too bright, completely unnecessary white that blinded Harry. Squinting, he cautiously entered the room, eyes searching for his friend (and for the elusive demon that occupied the wing). 

What he saw instead was a lump of pillows and blankets on the furthest bed on the right. Harry smirked and, throwing caution to the wind, ran to the bed, jumping on his sleeping (unaware) friend and sending all the pillows tumbling to the stone floor.

‘What the- Oh! Harry! Wait, Harry?!’

Laughing at Neville’s stricken face, Harry snuggled down on Neville’s left, shoving random pillows to the growing pile on the floor.  He beamed at his friend, quickly hugging him (though careful of the bandages around Neville’s arm). ‘How are you, Nev? Still in any pain?’

Neville grinned and shuffled over, making room for Harry. ‘Not bad, Harry. Though I think that’s because Madame Pomfrey-’

‘You mean the she-devil?’

‘NO!’ Neville exclaimed vehemently. ‘Harry, Madame Pomfrey's an angel! She healed the broken arm and gave me a balm for the bruises. And she really is very sweet.’

Shocked at his friend’s description of the she-devil, Harry raised an eyebrow (a neat trick he picked up when he was five from his Aunt). ‘Sure she is, Nev. If angels have horns and horrible tasting potions.’

Neville couldn’t help it. Harry’s scandalised face was priceless!  Laughing, he closed his eyes for a second, breathing in the cool air of the room.  Quieting down, he opened his eyes to see Harry smiling softly at him. ‘What is it?’ he inquired softly.

‘Nothing, it’s just nice to see you laughing. Those jerks shouldn’t have said what they did and I’m glad to see you’re not worrying over them,’ Harry replied passionately.

Neville couldn’t have stopped the blush even if he had tried. Having Harry protect him from the bullies was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him.  It had felt so _good_ and had affirmed his friendship more than anything else would have.

Harry was a true friend. And as he watched Harry delve into a new tangent about idiotic Gryffindors, Neville smiled warmly. Harry might not have realised it, but what he did had won Neville’s loyalty.

And Neville would return the favour.

Till the end of his days.

 

 

The hour passed.

Harry and Neville sat in comfortable silence, their thoughts coming and going arbitrarily. Whilst Neville was thinking about how he would manage the worsening situation with the Gryffindor trio, Harry was contemplating another relationship.

They had been sitting in silence for about five minutes when Harry broke it with a tentative question. 'Neville?'

'Hmm?'

'Do you know anything about a ghost in Hogwarts?'

Surprised at the conversation, Neville raised a brow at Harry. 'A ghost? Harry, there hasn't been a ghost in Hogwarts in a decade. They disappeared around 11 years ago - no one knows how or why. The Daily Prophet had a field day with it, supposedly ghosts across the world were disappearing, with Hogwarts's being the first.'

'What?' Harry asked dumbfounded, shocked that he hadn’t heard of this before. 'All of them?'

'Except for a few here and there, they all disappeared.'

'And no one knows anything about why they left?'

Neville paused and thought about Harry's question. He furrowed his eyebrows and thought back to what his Gran had told him a long time ago. 'Well...there are only speculations really, but there are some, including Dumbledore, who believe that a powerful force had disrupted the planes of the world, causing the ghosts to fall 'sideways' - that is, to go back to being dead.'

'Hmmm...'

Neville turned to face Harry, carefully moving his bandaged limbs to reduce any aggravations. However, Harry was clearly no longer focusing on Neville, his misty eyes trained at one of the windows opposite Neville's hospital bed. Neville watched him a for a minute, his eyes analysing Harry's face, wandering why a conversation about ghosts would get such a cut off look on his friend's face.

He was abruptly woken from his musings when Harry opened his mouth and asked another question. 'Do you know anyone called Peeves?'

 _Oh._  

Neville grinned as he finally understood why Harry would bring about the missing ghosts of Hogwarts. 

'Neville?'

'Oh right! Yes, well, it's no wonder why you're asking about ghosts if you've met Peeves.'

The change in Harry was instantaneous. He visibly brightened and leaned closed to Neville, so that he was a few inches from Neville's face.  A large grin was on his face, and his eyes were sparkling with his curiosity.

Neville chuckled (though he also leaned back subtly, because Harry was just a tad bit too close) and answered. 'Peeves is a poltergeist. My Gran told me that he's been here at Hogwarts for nearly as long as Hogwarts was founded. He's very mischievous and always annoys the students and teachers here.'

'That explains the chandeliers!' Harry shouted excitedly. 

At his loud tone, Neville shushed him, quickly looking around to see whether Madam Pomfrey had heard Harry. Seeing no-one, he sighed and grinned at Harry. 'What's this about chandeliers?' he asked, intrigued despite himself.

And that was that. The two students continued chatting away until the light started fading away from the windows behind them and their curfew grew closer.

* * *

 

‘A _wizard’s duel?!_ Is he barking mad?’ Harry whispered. He was sitting next to Neville at the Slytherin table; it was dinner and Harry often dragged Neville to his table (away from those idiot Gryffindor boys) to eat. The Slytherins, though blatantly clear with their dislike of having a Gryffindor sit with them, were begrudgingly getting used to the interference and made no noise.

‘I’m starting to think so, Harry. He wants us to meet at the Trophy Room at midnight.’

‘After curfew?!’

‘Yeah. He’s lost it.’

Harry was stunned. A _wizard’s duel?!_ They were only 11 years old! Their arsenal was minimal, with only a few spells that could actually work on another individual, let alone spells that _harmed_ another. And _Weasley?_   His spell work was dismal on an ordinary day, _hell_ , Neville was way better than Weasley!

Huffing in exasperation, Harry rubbed his forehead, sighed dramatically and melted on Neville’s shoulder. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Neville was going. ‘We’re going, aren’t we?’ he stated.

Neville grinned. ‘We are.’

‘Alright. But when this comes to bite us on our arse – and it will –  I’ll be the first to say I told you so.’

 _Truly_ , Harry thought amusingly to himself as Neville started planning how they were going to sneak out at night, _bravery is the nicest word for stupidity._

 But Neville was his friend. And he would follow his friends to the ends of the earth.

(Although he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the first few days of his and Neville’s friendship, were Neville was shy and not confident in himself).

 

 

It was night, nearing midnight to be exact.  Harry and Neville were standing together in the trophy room, loitering in the shadows of a trophy cabinet, their small frames pushed together to limit the space they took and lessen the chance of anyone unwanted spotting them.

The two boys stood in a silence that was interrupted occasionally by one of them, their soft whispers echoing softly in the cold room, their breaths glittering coldly in the midnight air.

Shivering, Harry sighed in boredom and peered into the shadows of the room, hoping desperately that something would happen. He was so bored! It was clear to him that the idiotic Gryffindors weren’t coming (though Neville was persistent that they would- something about Gryffindor honour and other pish posh).

Just as Harry was about to give up on this entirely and drag Neville back to bed, Harry heard soft footfalls on heavy stone.

His eyes widened in surprise (he had been so sure that the git wouldn't show) and he elbowed Neville to get his attention. Neville's answering grin was somewhat strained, but Harry didn't judge him. After all, it wasn't every day that a pubescent wizard participated in a wizard's duel. 

The two boys waited anxiously for the red-headed Weasel to show himself.

…

Except the person that stealthily entered the trophy room wasn't a red head. Platinum blond hair, followed by pointy features and green robes was what they saw instead. 

Draco Malfoy. 

Harry's stalker. 

Now, Harry was loathed to do anything about his little stalking issue, having chosen instead to let the matter drop. He often ignored the grey eyes that followed his every move, hoping instead that Malfoy would eventually tire from watching Harry and hence stop. 

Sadly, this time was different to the others and Harry couldn’t afford to do nothing. His privacy was one thing, but Harry would _never_ jeopardise Neville getting into trouble because of him.

Just as Malfoy started peering in the shadows of the room, Harry stepped away from his position and faced the blond. 'Malfoy,' he said candidly, 'what brings you here?'

Malfoy scowled and responded in a dry tone that belied his clear interest in Harry's business. 'It's none of your business what I do in my time, Potter. The better question is: what are you doing so late after curfew? If you're caught, our House’s reputation will be tainted. We cannot afford such a blip to our name. I demand you return with me to the common room.'

Harry couldn't stop the ensuing snort even if he had tried. 'Why, Malfoy, I didn't realise you cared so much for me. But as you said, my business is my own and it doesn't concern you.'

Malfoy was clearly getting frustrated, his grey eyes had a glint that reflected coldly from the small light that was available in the dark room. ‘I will not be dissuaded, Potter. This is a matter of House integrity-’

‘ _Integrity?!_ You mean like how you’ve been following me?’

‘Excuse you, let me tell you…’

Neville watched from his corner in the shadows as Malfoy and Harry started spatting together like little children. Harry was standing in front of the cabinet he was crouching behind, making Neville pretty sure that Harry was only confronting his stalker to protect him from being in trouble. Neville smiled, somewhat amused at Harry's thinking (there was no way that Malfoy would not not notice him- Harry's body was so small and thin that he took up no space at all).  _Oh well_ , he thought to himself, _detentions aren't that bad_. 

Standing up from his prone position, Neville stepped towards Harry's right and almost laughed at Malfoy's gobsmacked face. 'Malfoy', he said calmly (ignoring his rapidly beating heart), 'a pleasure to see you up so late - I wasn't aware the Malfoy family was establishing a rule-breaking streak. Does your father know you loiter around after curfew?'

Malfoy's scowl was beautiful to Neville and he almost lost his composure (Harry clearly had no self-control- going by his snort of laughter). 

Malfoy's scowl deepened at Harry's snort and a light dusting of pink covered his cheeks. But, just as Malfoy opened his mouth to continue their banter, the three boys heard a sound that made Malfoy snap his jaw shut.

Perfectly in cinque with each other, the three boys froze and turned around.

‘Meeeeow’.

* * *

 

They were running, their blood pumping and their feet pounding on the stone floors of the corridors. Running as if their life depended on it - because it did.

Mrs Norris was behind them, her yellow eyes glittering with an internal sadistic fire that purred at the sight of children in trouble. She was gaining on them, her fast legs eating the distance as if it was nothing.

'M-My father will hear about this!' Malfoy screeched as they jumped on the moving staircases and continued their mad dash for survival.

'That's ex-excellent, Malfoy,' Harry wheezed out as he caught up to Malfoy, 'but what exactly can he do? Sh-She's a cat!'

'Shouldn't we be worried about more important things?' Neville chocked out from behind Harry. 'Like running...away maybe?'

Harry chuckled (though it sounded more like a cat choking on a hairball) and pulled Neville forward so that they were both directly behind Malfoy, running abreast. 'Sounds like a plan,' he replied.

'Would you two stop talking and run!?' Malfoy hollered. 'We have, if you havn't noticed, a crisis at hand!' To prove his point, Mrs Norris gained another metre on them, her mouth stretched into a feral grin as she jumped the stairs at a supernatural pace.

Putting on a last effort, the three boys jumped towards an already moving staircase, landing with loud grunts as some of them (Neville) missed a step and stumbled forward.

And, as if Merlin himself was watching over them, Mrs. Norris missed the jump and fell with a yowl to the staircase underneath theirs. Her screeches of agony could still be heard and the three boys winced as they clutched their ears in pain.

Nevertheless, not ones who wasted an opportunity, the boys unanimously agreed to continue their dash for survival (lest the fiend find a way to get to them).  Turning around from the satisfying scene of Mrs. Norris in pain, the boys held a fast pace walk down the corridor.

‘Where are we?’ Harry asked curiously, having not seen this place before. The corridor was dark (darker than it should’ve been), its shadows pulsing ominously. A wooden door was all that could be seen, its wood old and its colour gone.

‘Do not tell me, Potter, that you have so little brain cells that you cannot tell this is the third floor?’ Malfoy drawled (his composure clearly coming back with the ‘death’, so to speak, of Mrs Norris.)

Harry glared at Malfoy and stuck out his tongue.

Neville snorted and meandered up the stone corridor (though he did blush a little when Malfoy turned his icy glare to him. He might be comfortable with being himself with Harry, but Malfoy wasn’t Harry).

‘Do shut up, Longbottom. I’m curious to know where this corridor leads to.’

Silence fell at that comment. Curiosity inflamed, the three boys cautiously treaded down the remainder of the corridor, until at last they were inches away from the door.

‘Alohomora.’

 

They screamed.

(Suddenly, death by Mrs. Norris didn’t sound so bad.)

 

* * *

 

Quirrell woke with a loud gasp, his right hand already up and pressed against his burning forehead. 'What is it, My Lord? What has awakened you?' 

A seething voice, devoid of any warmth and love, whispered angrily in Quirrell's ear, 'the Potter boy's magic is growing stronger. Though it was weak at the beginning, it has steadily been increasing. Just now I felt a large burst of magic from him. We can no longer ignore him… lest he grows to be a problem'

Quirrell nodded (his mind long ago tortured by his Master to always obey). 'But how are we destroy him? Dumbledore is always watching him.'

The sadistic voice that answered would have made Merlin himself pray for the poor sod that was on its receiving end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:  
> • Dobby makes a return!  
> • Harry's dreams take an interesting turn  
> • Dumbledore is getting curious (as he does)  
> • And wait- what? Harry’s stalker is still being a stalker?  
> • Oh, and their Royal Majesties will be back!
> 
>  
> 
> Oh, and as per the norm, constructive comments are always welcome


	8. The Wakening Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who’s back! That’s right, it’s me! 
> 
> I plead guilty for my year absence, and I beg for forgiveness at your feet. Please don't kill me? 
> 
> I promise none of my stories are abandoned, but yeah, I apologise for the long wait between each chapter.
> 
> So, without further ado, I give you the next instalment of my story! Enjoy!

_There was red in the air._

_It came from his body; blood that dribbled down in sluggish rivers from his pores, clogging Harry's nose with the scent of copper._

_It was all around him; the floor a pool of crimson that moved in hypnotic patterns, swirling and twisting into grotesque pictures._

_Then came the green._

_It burst around him in emerald flashes; its light followed by the overwhelming stench of death - the Green Death._

_It mixed with the red; an ugly mix of colours that made a brown tarnished and dirty with decay._

 

_Behind the green and red was the laughter._

_Cold and harsh in the still air; a laughter so cruel that it sent shivers of fear down Harry's spine._

_It crept closer to where Harry was standing, a predator fixating on its prey._

_He knew that laugh…_

 

Harry woke with a gasp, eyes seeing only the red and green that drowned him.

_Voldemort._

How that beast haunted his dreams! Always taunting, always laughing! And always the same dreams - a dark power that was always pressing him, always creeping closer; the darkness of death and the temptations of power.

Harry chocked out a sob and curled under the covers of his bed, desperately pressing his fists into his eyes. Slowly, like the rising dawn on a cold day, the red faded from his vision and his dormitory returned - silent and cold, its fires long dead. Panting softly in the silent night, Harry pressed his clammy forehead against his bent knees and thanked Merlin that all his roommates were deep sleepers.

Oh, how he missed his Hedwig! Her music and connection to the Queen always had a calming effect with him, settling his nerves and soothing his ever growing powers. Now, with his recurring dreams and with him still being out of sorts with Hogwarts's magic, Harry felt a deep pang of loneliness.

He needed her.

He sobbed silently, unaware that his magic subconsciously called out to her .

 

Slowly, a slow lullaby permeated the air, twisting around his still form and wrapping loving arms around him. Hedwig, in all her silver glory, flashed into existence near Harry's elbow and chirped a greeting at him in her melodious voice.

Harry, overjoyed at her return, beamed at her amidst his sobs and clutched her gently in his arms, hiding his wet face in her soft chest.

Hedwig, worried and bemused by her friend, only continued singing as she nestled closer to Harry. 

'Where were you?' Harry asked in a soft voice that was muffled further by the fact that he was essentially speaking into Hedwig's feathers. Though he was ecstatic by the fact that Hedwig had returned, Harry couldn't stop the small pang of worry he always felt when she disappeared.

Hedwig crooned softly and filled Harry's head with images of hunts in the mountains, the beautiful freedom of the blue sky and was that another phoenix?

Abruptly, Harry pulled his head from Hedwig's chest and stared aghast at her. 'I didn't know there were red and gold phoenixes! Where did you find her?'

Wait - was Hedwig blushing? Frozen in shock at the turn of events, Harry simply watched dumbly as Hedwig flustered and chirped about meeting Dumbledore's phoenix at Hogwarts and that Fawkes (because apparently, it was a him and not a her) had asked her out on a hunt and how he was positively amazing- both kind and smart, loyal and fun and very, very handsome.

It took all of five seconds for Harry to simultaneously beam in happiness at Hedwig for finding another friend, and to laugh at her very obvious crush on Fawkes. Her indignant squawk only made him laugh louder, his worries about Voldemort already fading away.

Hedwig, clearly not as amused, only pummeled Harry with one her wings and gave him a stern look (though it was still so obviously clear that she was embarrassed).

Their moment, however, was ruined by a shout. 'Oi, Potter. Will you shut up? We're trying to sleep!' shouted Malfoy, whose bed was allocated across from him. 

Harry laughed louder, settling down only after Malfoy tossed a pillow at him. 

 

And whilst he slept, Hedwig channeled her magic into Harry's unbeknownst form, soothing the ties between his magic and Hogwarts.

 

* * *

 

_Dearest Dobby,_

_First, let me apologise for my late letter. Hedwig (the beautiful lady carrying this letter to you) has been absent from my presence for many days now, and has only recently returned to me. Could you find it within yourself to forgive my tardiness? I didn't want to use a standard owl either, as I understand House Elves are not given the right to communicate via mail without the agreement of their master. Hedwig, as I'm sure you've realised, is very discreet and I hope that we can use her in the future to correspond._

_So how are you, Dobby? Is everything going well in your family's house? I do hope that you are doing well._

_I've been talking to the House Elves in the school kitchen and they've been telling me how much they enjoy cooking and cleaning - it got me thinking that I don't know much about you. As a friend, I do hope that you can tell me about yourself. What do you enjoy doing? What's your favourite thing to do when you have no orders to follow? Are House Elves even allowed to have hobbies?_

_I'll tell you some things about myself as well (that way we can both learn new things about each other!). Let's see, I really like reading and studying (Hogwarts is great in that aspect). I have a friend called Neville Longbottom- he's a Gryffindor first year –  who I think you'd really like. Currently my favourite subject is Potions (the Professor teaching it is very amusing to watch). Er, I can't really think about anything else at the moment. Is there anything in particular that you want to know? You can ask me anything, and I'll do my best to answer._

_Please use Hedwig to reply if you can. I'd really like to keep talking with you!_

_Your friend forever,_

_Harry._

_P.S: I didn't want to bring this up initially, but I want to ask you on your opinion on Master Draco.  If you're not allowed to talk about this to someone outside the family, that's okay, but I just want to know whether you think he can be trusted? I'm only asking because I think I want to befriend him._

_P.P.S: I've enclosed some treacle tart in this package for you to taste. It's currently my favourite desert at Hogwarts and I want to know your opinion on it._

 

Beaming at the letter he had just written, Harry folded the paper carefully and slotted it into its envelope. Scribbling down Dobby’s name on the parched envelope, Harry turned to Hedwig and gave her the finished package in his hand.  Cooing softly in her ears, Harry lovingly gave his friend a piece of his breakfast and sent her off into the morning.

As Hedwig took flight over the students in the Great Hall, Harry smiled. With Hedwig’s return, Harry had woken up that morning feeling refreshed and more at peace with Hogwarts. His headache had lessened considerably (the pain left merely a small twinge of discomfort) and despite still not being able to scope the full power of Hogwarts’s magic, Harry knew that in a few days his magic would be strong enough for him to really communicate with the castle. As it stood, Harry was already beginning to feel Hogwarts at the back of his head- a conscious full of life and joy.

And for now, that was enough.

As Hedwig left his sight, Harry closed his eyes and basked in his renewed happiness. His magic was stabilising, and he could feel his King and Queen again, their magic energising his soul.

It was good to be back.

* * *

 

Harry was lying on the soft grass in the courtyard, his face turned to the King above. As it was lunch, all the students were inside, leaving the courtyard empty of people (and their distracting souls).

Opting out of eating lunch with Nev, Harry had chosen instead to come out and reconnect with the magic of his King, as well as to contemplate a few problems that were circling about his head. Most predominantly, the problem of Professor Quirrell…and the fact that the man was so akin to Voldemort.

In his last class of Defence, Harry hadn’t been able to keep his eyes away from the stuttering Professor. The man’s magic was tainted with evil so vile that Harry had nearly gagged. And the man’s soul…

Harry had never seen a soul that reeked so much of death as this one.

Furrowing his brows, Harry lifted one arm so that his hands were splayed in front of his King, whose light was dancing through Harry’s fingers to spread warm, golden magic through his veins. _What should I do?_ Harry thought desolately, his eyes beseeching his King.

_Gather your friends, Little One. There are always those willing to help you. Gather them and fight._

Harry smiled and nodded his thanks to the King. It was a good idea, but the question then became who he should gather.Harry thought slowly, mulling over the adults he might be able to tell. A few seconds later, he was sitting bolt upright, a wide smile on his face.  But of course - Dumbledore! Harry had felt the Headmaster’s power just that morning, had seen the power hiding inside the little old man’s body – ageless and pure. He would be perfect to tell! Not to mention that Professor Quirrell was, in fact, one of the Headmaster’s teachers.

Glad that he had some sort of plan now, Harry grinned and nestled back on the soft grass. He would go to Dumbledore within the next few days and talk to him about Professor Quirrell.

Mind settled, Harry closed his eyes and relaxed. Faced with nothing but his dark eyelids, he turned his thoughts to his other problem – well, not so much a problem as a curious enigma –  aka. Peeves. After Neville had told him everything he knew about the poltergeist, Harry had vowed that he would find the unsettled soul and befriend it (after all, how bad could a  poltergeist possibly be?). The problem with his plan was that Peeves had literally disappeared in the last few days. Even Filch had commented about how quiet the castle was without Peeve’s chaos (Harry swore he saw a flash of worry on the man’s face for a second before it disappeared behind his frown).

 _How do you find someone not there?_ Harry thought sluggishly. _Maybe I should play a large prank and draw him out?_

With different pranks flitting through his mind, Harry fell into a light sleep.

* * *

 

Harry stared at the musty book in front of him, eyes slightly glazed and mind not comprehending anything. It was Halloween, and while all the other students were preparing for the upcoming feast, Harry was instead sitting in the library trying to find out about Nicholas Flamel (he simply could not get the notion out of his head that Nicholas Flamel was important somehow).

Not that it was going well.

Sighing, Harry slammed the dusty volume closed and rubbed his forehead tiredly. There was nothing- absolutely nothing! It was as if this man was a ghost. ‘Dammit’, Harry cursed softly (mindful of the library’s demon that roamed the labyrinth of books).

‘What are you doing, Potter?’ a cold, yet inquisitive voice asked over Harry’s head.

Startled and surprised at being interrupted, Harry tilted his head and stared into grey eyes. ‘Malfoy?’ he asked.

‘Yes, Potter. Are you daft as well as blind? What are you doing?’

‘Don’t be stupid, Malfoy. I just thought you would be with the other students getting ready for the feast.’

A scoff was heard and Malfoy gestured to his pristine uniform with a flourish. ‘I, unlike the rest of the uncivilised animals that live here, am always ready.’

Blinking disbelievingly for a moment, Harry could only snicker. Smiling, he beckoned Malfoy to sit next to him. As Malfoy gracefully pulled the weathered chair next to Harry and sat down with another flourish, Harry gestured to the pile of books in front of him. ‘I’m looking for information about a man called Nicholas Flamel. You wouldn’t by any chance know anything about him?’

Malfoy’s eyebrows furrowed for a minute before straightening again. ‘You really are daft, Potter. Flamel is the creator of the philosopher stone.’

Harry gaped unattractively at Malfoy, awed that Malfoy knew anything about the ghost that didn’t appear in any book. He closed his mouth with a sudden click, mouth frowning as Malfoy’s sentence actually filtered in his head. ‘What are philosopher stones?’ he asked inquisitively.

‘Not stones, Potter. Stone. Nicholas Flamel is renowned for creating the philosopher’s stone alongside Dumbledore. Not only can the stone create gold from other metals, but it keeps its user immortal. If I’m not mistaken, and I rarely am, I do believe Flamel is currently around 665 years old.’

Harry whistled softly, impressed despite himself that there was a wizard who managed to create something so corruptible, so greedy.

And then a thought startled Harry out of his admiration and disgust, so strong that he almost knocked all the books of the table when he jumped and turned to Malfoy. ‘Of course! The stone is being guarded here at Hogwarts! That’s why there’s that giant dog on the third floor.’

Grey eyes widened before narrowing at Harry’s excited face. ‘Slow down, Potter. Explain your reasoning from the beginning.’

 

Within the next hour, the boys debated the possibility of the stone being hidden in Hogwarts and what they should do with this new information.

* * *

 

The hall looked amazing.

Decked in orange and black, the roof of the hall glimmered with grim-faced pumpkins and flickering candles.  A feast, worthy of the richest Kings, weighed the five tables in the hall, the sweet aroma of dozens of different meals wafting enticingly in the air. Students, chatting happily with each other, sat in their respectful tables, creating a warm and friendly atmosphere.

Not to mention Dumbledore. The headmaster was wearing the most atrocious orange robe that Harry had ever seen, one that shifted between the different shades of orange every minute. He was also wearing a garish pumpkin that sat almost royally on his head. Just seeing the old man made Harry laugh joyfully, affirming the fact that there couldn’t possibly be a cooler headmaster anywhere in the world (a fact that Hogwarts seemed to agree with, if her soft laughter was any indication – and Harry was still awed that he could hear her clearly now).

‘Close your mouth, Potter. You look like an unattractive fly.’

Blushing furiously, Harry shifted in his seat and glared mulishly at Malfoy (who had decided to grace Harry with his presence, as he so eloquently put it). ‘Not anyone can be as perfect as you, Malfoy,’ Harry replied with a pout.

Ignoring Malfoy’s smug grin at that statement, Harry turned back to his plate of sweets and grabbed another treacle tart, only to stuff it in his mouth, throwing his own smug grin at Malfoy’s indignant face.

Sitting there, feeling Hogwarts’s amusement in the back of his head and physically seeing the joy resonate in everyone’s soul, Harry felt a warm bubble of happiness fill him.  Swallowing his tart, Harry closed his eyes and basked in the joy and happiness that radiated from the room. 

 

The hour passed quickly, with the food slowly dwindling with the satisfied hunger of hundreds of students. The roof’s sky darkened with the hour’s twilight; excitement waning in parallel to the dimming lights. A slow lull fell through the conversations.

In the quiet, Quirrell’s frightened screams were hard to miss, as was his entrance.

‘TROLL! TROLL IN THE DUNGEON! Thought you ought to know...’

As the hall erupted in panicked screams, and as Dumbledore roared for silence (and for an old man, a small part of Harry couldn’t help but admire the pair of lungs that the man packed), Harry’s attention predominantly lay at watching Quirrell’s unconscious body.

Dark magic was pulsating erratically in the man’s soul, ratcheting with the screams and panic around the room. Yet that wasn’t what had captured Harry’s attention. It was the dark amusement that swam in Quirrell’s soul, the glee at the prospect that there was a troll in the dungeons. If Harry ever needed proof that Quirrell was dark, it was in that childlike glee – that lust for carnage.

He was brought away from his musings by Malfoy’s scoff. The blonde boy was staring at Dumbledore with a look that clearly showed his disgust.

‘What is it?’ Harry asked, tearing his eyes from Quirrell’s prone form.

‘Do you have air in your ears, Potter? We’re being ordered to go back to our common room, which is, as Dumbledore well knows, in the dungeons!’

Harry blinked. Turned his gaze at the old man. Frowned. ‘That’s not good, is it?’

Malfoy turned his disbelieving star on Harry. ‘No, it isn’t.’

‘Let’s go somewhere else then!’ Harry said brightly, completely ignoring the rush of students around them, and the calls of Prefects and Heads shouting over the heads of students.

Grey eyes narrowed as Malfoy thought through his options, before he gave a regal nod and stood up. Beckoning Potter to stay behind him, Malfoy navigated his way through the press of bodies around him, his body twisting with a fluid grace that reflected his status.

Snorting to himself at Malfoy’s antics, Harry pushed through the crowd that was already closing around the other boy and, in a much more ungraceful and uncoordinated manner, followed Malfoy.

Ducking under a red, curly-headed Prefect, Harry squeezed his way through the rest of the panicked students and miraculously found himself standing outside the Great Hall with all his limbs intact. Looking around for his fellow Slytherin (the corridor only somewhat less crowded than the Hall), Harry was just able to see the edge of a green tinted robe before it turned into the adjacent corridor.

Jogging to catch up to the boy (clearly Malfoy wasn’t going to slow down), Harry found himself in a much quieter corridor. ‘So where are we going?’ Harry asked Malfoy. ‘Isn’t Professor Snape going to know we’re not with the rest of the first years?’

Barely slowing down, Malfoy raised an eyebrow. ‘Severus knows I can take care of myself. And you were the one who said we should go somewhere else. Changing your mind already?’

Harry huffed and pouted at Malfoy. ‘I didn’t say we should go back,’ he said petulantly, ‘I just want to know where we’re going.’

‘If you must know, Potter. I’m heading towards Severus’s office.’

Harry nearly tripped over his robe, barely managing to catch himself before he face-planted on the hard, stone floor. ‘YOU WHAT?! Why are we going there?’

‘Because, Potter, Severus’s office is spell protected and heavily warded. Though it might be located near the dungeons, its protection is enough for me to risk it. Besides, it’s not as far deep in the dungeons as our common room.’

Mulling over Malfoy’s proclamation, Harry nodded after a minute.  ‘When you put it like that, I can see your reasoning. I’m in.’

Ignoring the little voice in his head that was shouting about his imminent death at the hands of Snape, Harry followed the pompous blonde down the dark corridors of the dungeon.  The first few minutes were spent in silence, each boy following their own thoughts. It wasn’t until they found themselves near the first level of the dungeon that they stopped.

Something loud could be heard from the adjacent corridor – heavy stomps followed by incomprehensive grunts and snorts.  Sharing a panicked look with Malfoy, Harry had a moment to think that coming here was a stupid idea, before both boys simultaneously started backing up.

They might have made it too, if Harry hadn’t tripped over his robe and fell smack into the armour that was along the wall (and who was the stupid person who decided to put armour around every corridor and room?).

 _Merlin save us_ , Harry prayed in the following silence that followed the loud crash.

Alas, it was a roar that met his prayer.

He gripped his wand tightly (noting in his peripheral that Malfoy was doing the same), and quickly stood up from the mess of armour plates around him.  There was no time like the present to learn something new – like just how long he could survive against a troll.

* * *

 

He was in the room again.

It was clearer than last time, like a TV that suddenly found itself with high quality definition. The same four walls stood with their arms stretched to the heavens, their bloated and cracked shapes showing stark against the grey stone. Dust motes were still smothering the room, a curtain of grey that covered every surface.

Standing in the centre of the wrecked room, Harry noticed a window where there wasn’t one before. In the north wall, taking up half the space, was a tall window with a wide arch. Though it might once have been beautiful, age and time had eroded it until only the barest outline of its arch could be seen, and the thick glass that once shined with a myriad of different colours, lay cracked and smothered in the same dust that oppressed the room.

_Little Master? Have you found me yet?_

Not quite as startled as he was that first time, Harry took a step towards the window (where he thought Hogwarts’s voice originated from) and peered into the cracked exterior of the glass. ‘Hogwarts, are you there?’ he called softly. ‘Where are you?’

_I’m here, Little Master. Where I always am._

Dark shadows started creeping into Harry’s vision, crawling its way through the room until one of the walls vanished into its gaping mouth. Panicked at the thought of not finding Hogwarts, Harry ran until his back was pressed against the glass of the window. Sweeping his eyes around the quickly disappearing room, Harry pleaded a last time. ‘But where are you? Hogwarts, where can I find you?!’

_I am where I always am, here. I cannot say more. You must find me, my Little Saviour._

Harry screamed as the darkness swallowed him.

 

 

Gasping, Harry woke up to a blinding white light. Moaning in pain, he scrunched his eyes shut and rolled over in the soft bed he was lying on, pressing his eyes against the dark comfort of his pillow. Despite the nice darkness of his pillow, bright spots flashed beneath his eyelids in arbitrary patterns.

‘Ah, Mister Potter. You’re awake then. I’m starting to think you like being in my wing.’

A whimper left Harry’s throat as he recognised the sharp tones of the she-devil (at this stage, Harry’s pretty sure he’d recognise her on his death bed). Pushing his forehead deeper into the pillow, Harry prayed desperately to all the deities out there (his King and Queen, Merlin, _anyone_ ), that the earth would open beneath him and swallow him whole.

‘Please, Madame Pomfrey. Let the boy be for now.’

Shocked to hear his prayer answered, Harry braved the blinding light to sit up and see his saviour. Squinting in the blinding light, Harry thought he could make out a white beard and an emerald green robe that glittered gold. Professor Dumbledore. Of course.

‘Thank you, Professor,’ Harry croaked out with a smile. When Dumbledore only smiled warmly and passed Harry a cup of cool water, Harry’s smile stretched wider.

‘My dear boy, I cannot begin to tell you how lucky you are for surviving an encounter with a mountain troll. Both Mister Malfoy and yourself shouldn’t have wandered off like that, it was very dangerous.’

Feeling guilty suddenly, Harry felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment. ‘Sir, not to excuse my actions, but we didn’t seek out the troll –’

‘As I recall from what young Draco has informed me, you were heading towards Professor Snape’s rooms to bide your time until the troll was caught. Am I correct in assuming that you thought it was a safer option than the dungeons?’

‘Yes, Sir’ Harry said meekly.

Dumbledore smiled warmly and patted Harry’s knees (well, the blanket that smothered his entire body).  ‘I understand, my boy’, he said softly before his voice turned sombre and his eyes steel, ‘but know that I would never jeopardise the safety of the children of Hogwarts. In times of danger, Hogwarts’s corridors and tunnels can provide secret paths between the houses.’

Feeling like a child, Harry nodded his head in understanding. In retrospect, he really should have known better. If anything, he should have trusted Hogwarts. She would never have allowed her children to get hurt.

‘I’ll bear that in mind, Sir. It won’t happen again.’

‘I’m glad to hear that.’

 

His talk with Dumbledore did not last long after they both came to their understanding. Harry promised that he would be more careful and Dumbledore promised to be more open with the students if another time came where they were in danger.

The old Professor stayed for a bit after, sharing some lollies that he procured mysteriously from his robes. They shared small stories of wonder and magic, their smiles bright and light. Then, when Dumbledore bid goodbye, Harry relaxed into his bed, happy to just go back to sleep. He would talk with Dumbledore about Quirrell another day, when he wasn’t as tired as he was now ( _who knew fighting trolls could be so draining_?).

‘Harry?’

Furrowing his eyebrows, Harry looked around his environment briefly before his eyes automatically found his friend’s head poking through the infirmary’s door.

‘Neville? What are you doing here?’ Harry said with a mock serious face, ‘shouldn’t you be in your common room?’ 

Neville’s disbelieving face made Harry’s façade crack. It faded completely though when the other boy simply cocked his eyebrow, as if daring Harry to tell him off. Laughing at his friend’s face, Harry beckoned Neville over, patting the space next to his bed.

‘So…’ Neville started as he snuggled in the space next to Harry. ‘A troll? You and Malfoy?’

Harry snorted. ‘Who would have thought it?’

‘Certainly not me,’ Neville answered, ‘so does this mean that you’re recruiting Malfoy now? Because let me tell you, my Grandmother will _not_ be pleased about it.’

 _No_ , Harry thought amusedly, _she wouldn’t._ Just thinking about the look of outrage that would adorn the face of Neville’s aunt made Harry snicker.

‘What’s so funny?’ Neville asked.

When no immediate answer came, Neville poked Harry sharply, ‘oi, what’s so funny?’

‘Augh!’ Harry exclaimed at the stab. He turned his attention to his friend and pouted pitifully at him, ‘Why did you do that Nev? I thought we were friends.’

Neville grinned and poked his tongue out, ‘that’s what you get for not paying attention to me. Now, what was so funny?’

Harry huffed and crossed his arms dramatically. ‘Now I’ll never tell you. You can live the remainder of your life wishing you never poked me.’

Neville simply laughed. ‘ Keep your secrets, Potter. I don’t need to know.’

Harry snorted, ‘of course you don’t. You only poked me for the fun of it.’

‘Shush you.’

 

And that was that.

The boys spent the rest of their time together chatting listlessly. Eventually, as Harry started to nod off, Neville’s voice lowered until only a soft timber could be heard. It did the trick, and Harry was soon asleep, his head resting on Neville’s shoulder.  

Harry didn’t know it, but he had really worried Neville. When the boy had first heard that Harry was unconscious and in the medical wing, he had left his common room immediately and made his way to the hospital wing.  The word was that Harry was the only one that got injured, and that Malfoy, who was reported to be with Harry, had only received a small injury. Apparently, the boys had met the troll and _defeated_ it somehow (though Neville was sure that it was Harry who had defeated it and not Malfoy).

Watching Harry sleep, Neville finally released the tension that had followed him everywhere since he heard the news. Harry would be all right – he simply had to be. There was no one else in the world like Harry, Neville was sure. The boy had drawn Neville in, and, in only a few short days, had changed Neville to who he was now.

There was just something _magical_ about Harry, more so than the obvious magic that every witch and wizard possessed.

* * *

 

At the same time that Neville and Harry fell into a light slumber, Draco Malfoy was sitting in his godfather’s office. 

Dark eyes stared at grey, and a thin eyebrow cocked as if enquiring why the boy was still there. As Draco had been sitting in front of Severus for five minutes now (and did not seem willing to speak), it was, he thought, a legitimate inquiry.

When it became clear that his godson did not pick up on his silent message, Severus sighed. ‘Can I help you with anything, Draco? Or are you planning on wasting away in front of me?’

Startled out of his stupor, Draco sat up straighter and gazed at his godfather seriously. ‘Severus, my father has always trusted you with his thoughts, and I myself have come to you before when I was unsure of anything. What I am telling you today must not be spoken to anyone else – not even my father. Can I trust you to uphold this, as I have trusted you before?’

Unsurprised by his godson’s formal tone (he was, after all, a Slytherin), Severus merely nodded his head. ‘You can always trust me, Draco. You are my godson, and your secrets will never leave my mouth without your permission.’

Upon hearing this, Draco sighed in relief and relaxed in the dark green armchair he was sitting on. ‘Excellent,’ he said, ‘I knew I was right in coming here tonight.’

‘What did you wish to speak with me about?’

‘Harry Potter’.

If Draco thought that Severus would react negatively at the mention of Potter, he was mistaken. Though that in itself should not have surprised Draco, as every Slytherin knew that their head of house did not like the boy, and that he spent his classes ignoring him

‘What of the boy?’

‘As you are perfectly aware of, Severus, my father has asked me to watch Potter and come to a decision on whether my befriending him would be politically beneficial for the Malfoy house. These past weeks I have done exactly that – I’ve had other Slytherins follow him, and I myself have spent a considerable time watching his movements.’

‘And what conclusion did you reach?’

Draco visibly paused as he thought of Harry Potter.  His mind had been filled with nothing but the black haired enigma since he first started his mission. There was just _something_ off about Potter. It was almost as if the boy saw himself outside the realm of others, as if he was not one of them.

‘Your conclusion, Draco?’

Pulled from his thoughts again, Draco peered up at his godfather. Severus was sitting gracefully on his own armchair, his onyx eyes staring with undivided attention at Draco’s own. Clearly, his godfather was interested in what he was going to say.

‘There’s something about him, Severus, something _different_. Yet I can’t quite put my finger on it. He is undoubtedly popular with all his teachers, and is steadily making his way to the top of the year in his marks. Excluding the Weasel and his gang of buffoons, the students all look up to him as well. He may not be aware of it, but he is clearly building his own network. On that point alone it would be beneficial for the Malfoys to get close to him.

Yet at the same time, I need to consider his view on blood purity. His best friend is Longbottom, who, though pitiful and weak in every way, is pure blooded. Yet he shows willingness to befriend everyone –  half-blood and mudblood alike. Unless I can change his mind in the near future, this will prove to be a barrier between any alliance.

But, and this is where I want your opinion, Severus. Potter is undoubtedly powerful. The other students might not realise it yet, but I’m sure that Potter will become one of the most powerful wizards across the world.  And power is, after all, the most important factor in whether my father will consider an alliance between the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy and the Noble House of Potter.’

Finishing his little monologue, Draco turned to Severus and raised one eyebrow. ‘I would like your opinion on this, Severus.’

Severus smiled grimly. ‘ It looks like you already made your mind up, Draco. From the points you have raised, I would suggest you start to approach the boy. Despite his tolerance for everyone, his power and name alone would benefit the House of Malfoy. I will be holding a detention for Potter soon, and shall observe him closely there. I ask you to give me time to make a conclusion.’

Draco nodded. ‘Then it is decided. I shall start approaching Potter in the following days, and only after your detention with him will I draw a formal conclusion.’

 

Content with their plan of action, both males threw all thoughts of Potter away, and spent the following hours catching up – godfather to godson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you all think? Good? Bad? Vomit inducing? Do tell!
> 
> I can proudly say that the story is starting to come together. It will soon unveil itself to you all, so have patience, my precious munchkins! Good things will come to those who are patient.
> 
> Coming Up:  
> Quirell and Harry have a face off! Ooh!


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